Trust Can Kill You Or Set You Free
by ImaginaryGoddess
Summary: A former Centre child with special powers returns to confront her past... and fight for her future.
1. Only A Secretary

Chapter One: Only A Secretary  
  
Trust can kill you or set you free. That is what she used to say. I still felt her presence with me even after all these years though I could never bring myself to say her name out loud, or even dare to think it - except in the screams of my nightmares.  
  
It must be this place, being back here, that finally allowed me - or forced me - to acknowledge her, to acknowledge her name. Catherine Parker. Angel, saint, protector, martyr, victim. An angel now in truth if you believed in such things. God, how I wished she were here with me now - to protect me and comfort me in this terrifying place called The Centre - and from those who dwelt within.  
  
Trust can kill you or set you free. Had Catherine made a fatal error by trusting someone she shouldn't have? I didn't have the answer to that question but, after a decade out in the real world, I was determined to go back to do something about all those unanswered questions.  
  
No more could I pretend. I grimaced at the word. that the first fifteen years of my life had all been just a bad dream. Ten years on, I was now 25 and still afraid all the time, always looking over my shoulder expecting to see ominous dark-suited men with their ominous dark cars watching me, waiting to make their move - either to take me back to where they thought I belonged or to kill me.  
  
The first option seemed worse than the second somehow. And yet, here I was. However, I had returned to The Centre of my own free will and most importantly, on my own terms. If I kept my head and didn't let my guard down then maybe, just maybe, I would make it out of this alive. And hopefully, with my sanity intact.  
  
Finding the answers to the questions surrounding Catherine's death - murder! The word screamed in my head and I pushed the dark images aside roughly - was not my only mission here. Answers to questions. Debts to be repaid. Justice. Perhaps even a little revenge. More important than anything else - resolution, closure, a chance to move on.  
  
I knew that it was unlikely to ever be over for me. They say you can never escape The Centre. That is because even if you do escape you can never put it behind you. You will never be free. The Centre owns you - if not your body then your mind, your spirit, your soul.  
  
I suppressed a shudder as I entered the huge forbidding complex that was The Centre. Not even the Sweeper maintaining the security of the Staff entrance gave me a second glance as I progressed through the various clearances to get inside. No-one found a secretary like me threatening. I was just another of the faceless workers - the secretaries, janitors, electricians, accountants, plumbers. No-one remembered that I was once here before - that now I was being paid to work for The Centre instead of being held prisoner by them.  
  
I had to smile at the irony of that. And at how simple it had been to get this job. No computer hacking or forgery required - apart from originally changing my name and identity when I had first left The Centre. All I had done was bide my time until a position became vacant in the Administration Department. It didn't take long because people didn't really like working there - especially at the bottom of the pecking order.  
  
I had applied, enclosing an impeccable reference from my former employer. He was also my only friend in the world and, as I requested, he had included in the reference all the sorts of qualities that The Centre would be looking for in an employee - discretion, efficiency, loyalty (I had worked for him for almost all the ten years I'd been 'out') and a subtle suggestion that I would not be inclined to attempt to rise above my current occupation. There were plenty of people already at the top trying to wrest power from one another without the Administration Department trying to join in!  
  
After receiving my application, they had granted me an interview immediately and it had been extremely easy to convince them that I was perfectly suited to work there. It helped that most of the other applicants who had been granted interviews didn't actually make it because one look inside The Centre and they had made a dash for it. In fact, while I was in the reception area waiting I heard one girl mutter before leaving, "No way. Forget it. I can easily get a job somewhere that actually has windows. Natural light is a good thing!"  
  
Anyone desperate enough for employment to actually make it to their interview could not compete with my skills and qualifications. I was offered the job on the spot.  
  
Since then I had been working hard to impress my new boss, the Administration Manager, Mr Jones. He was an unauspicious, but very dedicated man who was sick of being treated with contempt by his superiors as if he and his work weren't important. Of course, those in power were much too busy watching their backs whilst sticking knives in their colleagues' backs to consider paperwork to be worthy of notice. Unless the paperwork came back to bite them on the ass. That didn't happen very often at all due to Mr Jones' attention to detail and most mistakes were because of the executive's own sloppiness. I thought it was a shame that the only time attention was drawn to Mr Jones was when things went wrong - especially as in the month I had been working with him I had seen him, through his efficiency, save a lot of people's jobs - and since this was The Centre - perhaps their lives.  
  
I mentioned this to him casually one day about a week before - about how if only they could see how important he was to their survival and therefore, how inherently powerful he could be, then imagine how they would all come crawling to him.  
  
"Do you really think I'm powerful?" He had asked in wonder, the idea appealing to him.  
  
"Oh yes, Mr Jones," I'd assured him. "Just think, with your expertise in this area, you could get practically anything done - or not done - around here if you wanted. For example, think of what harm you could do to one of the executives just by stuffing around with their paperwork."  
  
He had grinned. "Oh, that would be so much fun. Can you imagine? They probably wouldn't even suspect me!"  
  
I began to wonder for a second if I had created a monster but I knew him well enough to know that he was not interested at all in scrambling for the top. All he wanted was a little bit of respect - and that his self-respect was more important to him than earning other people's. He would be a good ally on my quest even if he didn't know my true motives or goals.  
  
The reason I could judge him so well after only a month was because I too was powerful. Much more powerful than Mr Jones, however. More powerful than even The Centre had realised whilst I had been their 'guest'. I had hid my talents well and for good reason. I was 'special' - even now the word sent chills down my spine and sent a silent voice, my own voice, shrieking in my head "I'm not special. don't say I'm a Pretender!! Please, God, I'm not a Pretender!" - and The Centre would never ever have let me go so easily if they had known the things that I could do. Never.  
  
I wandered into Mr Jones' office with the words still rolling around in my head, the words from my nightmares.  
  
"Good morning, Melinda." He looked up cheerily. He had become a lot happier and content since I had been around. I had that effect on people. I know what they want me to be - and therefore, how to get what I want from them.  
  
"Morning, Mr Jones." I replied, checking through his Out-Tray to see what work it contained for me.  
  
"Melinda, I've been thinking about what you said last week. About how I could be quite powerful if I wanted to put my mind to a task."  
  
"Yes." I replied hesitantly wondering where this was going. I hoped he wasn't going to take on the Triumverate or anything stupid but knew this wouldn't be the case.  
  
"Well, I've decided to test my skills on a certain project." He announced.  
  
"What kind of project, Mr Jones?"  
  
"You, my dear, you." He smiled.  
  
For a second I panicked. 'Project' was another word that set off warning bells in my system. The Pretender Project. Yet I knew that wasn't what he meant - and I sensed that his intentions weren't amorous either. I breathed a sigh of relief - it wasn't that he was unappealing, in fact he was a really nice guy and I liked him very much. Another time, and another world, it might have worked - he was only about ten years older than me and quite attractive in a rumpled bookish kind of way - but I had things to accomplish, a lot of emotional baggage and. Trust can kill you or set you free. Catherine was certainly on my mind a lot these days - and her saying about trust which was forever highlighted for me by her death.  
  
Of course, it was hard not to think of her when every time I went on an errand, I couldn't help but see the hole still left in the elevator wall. A bullet hole. Why on earth had they not repaired that in all these years? It was left as a message from The Centre to deter all opposition. I would not be deterred. I owed Catherine that much.  
  
He went on. "As much as I like working with you, Melinda, I know you're not happy here in this department."  
  
"Oh no!" I assured him. "I like the work very much."  
  
He waved a hand for me to sit down. "I don't mean the work. I mean the people. You're a bit of a loner and I know you worked as a personal assistant to one person for almost ten years. I was just thinking that you might be happier working as a personal assistant again."  
  
"I'm practically your personal assistant now." I pointed out, scarcely daring to breathe. This was going better than I had ever expected.  
  
"Well that's true - and your work is exemplary, I must say - but." he trailed off for a moment, trying to find the right words. "The thing is, if you want - and only if you want, you understand, there's no pressure - I can pull some strings and get you transferred somewhere where you can work more on your own - not as just some part of the administrative team." He finished off in a rush, extraordinarily pleased with the idea - and desperate for me to accept his offer of help.  
  
"You'd do that for me?"  
  
He nodded. "Anywhere you want to go, anyone you want to work for - just tell me and I'll see what I can do with these administrative powers you've been telling me I have."  
  
I didn't want to appear too eager, and I knew that I should probably tell him that I'd think about it, but I couldn't wait any longer. Besides, anything to get out of that department filled with naïve gossiping women who thought The Centre was just a place with a lot of office politics. Some days it had taken all my strength not to scream at them - to tell them that not watching your back would not only mean you got passed up for promotion but could also mean something like maybe losing your thumb.  
  
I tried to speak casually. "You know, I think you're right. I would like to be a personal assistant again - just working for one person or even a few. I would miss working for you though." I added hastily. And I meant it.  
  
He smiled happily. "I'll miss you too. Come on, tell me who you've got in mind. I can tell you already know who you want to work with."  
  
And I thought I was supposed to be the one who could read people's thoughts. "Okay, well there is someone whose personal assistant I'd be interested in being."  
  
"Go on," he prompted.  
  
I hesitated, this could be the moment of truth. "I'd kinda like to work with Miss Parker actually."  
  
He spluttered in shock. "Miss Parker?! You have to be out of your mind! That ice cold bitc.?" He composed himself. "Sorry. Are you sure that's what you want?"  
  
I nodded, my heart pounding. Please don't say no, I begged silently.  
  
"May I ask why?" he enquired. "Are you perchance a masochist or something?"  
  
I laughed lightly. "I know it sounds dumb but I think it would be a challenge. Plus it helps my career prospects since her father is Mr Parker. Not to mention her brother being Mr Lyle."  
  
"Well you could be right about Mr Parker. But I have to warn you - although she works with Mr Lyle, they're hardly playing cosy families up there. Word is they practically loathe each other. As for the challenge aspect.. that's an understatement." He shook his head. "Are you really positive you want to mix yourself up in all that?"  
  
Well, did I? Did I really want to do this? I could easily resign from The Centre, return to my former employer - my lovely computer nerd - and spend the rest of my days hiding in his house with nothing in my life to worry about except helping him run his company... and my nightmares. No, I couldn't hide forever - I had been doing that for nearly ten years and it could go on no longer. I had come this far - there was no backing out now.  
  
I smiled grimly. "I'm positive. Prepare to flex those admin muscles, boss. I'm ready to move up in the world." And onto the next phase of my plans, I added silently. Heaven help anyone who dared stand in my way.  
  
  
  
I desperately crave feedback! Please let me know what you think of my fic - min_coates@hotmail.com 


	2. No Turning Back

Chapter Two: No Turning Back  
  
My new position was ready for me in less than two weeks. A few mistakes and inconvenient delays - arranged by Mr Jones - in the processing of Miss Parker's paperwork were all it took. Miss Parkers was not a patient woman by any means. I had been out of the office at the time but the staff were all badly shaken when I returned.  
  
I went in to see Mr Jones and he filled me in. "It worked perfectly! Miss Parker turned up here." He grinned at my look of amazement. "She was in quite a mood, to put it mildly." He stood up and walked around his desk towards me.  
  
"From the atmosphere around here I'd say she was in more than just a mood." I replied wryly. The feelings I sensed seemed more suited to the aftermath of an armed hold-up. Fear, adrenalin and shock were the most prominent.  
  
He laughed, "Okay, I'll admit she was this close to shrieking like a banshee." He held his thumb and forefinger up about an inch apart. "Actually, if she had yelled I might have felt better. She made my blood run cold." His reaction felt so strong that I very nearly shivered. "Anyway, after I spent some time grovelling and apologising, Miss Parker accepted my suggestion that she might consider a personal assistant dedicated purely to the work of her team as opposed to using the Admin Department."  
  
"I assume it will be an internal appointment, so is the next step for me to apply?" I asked. The descriptions of Miss Parker I had been hearing bothered me. She sounded nothing like her mother at all - or like the little girl I remembered.  
  
Mr Jones looked very pleased with himself. "You start tomorrow, as a matter of fact."  
  
I gasped. "That's it? It's all arranged?" I could hardly believe it.  
  
"Yes. A desk is being set up for you in her team's offices at this very moment. You'll need to report to a man named Sydney as Miss Parker won't be in until later on."  
  
I froze. Sydney! I didn't know he was working with Miss Parker, even though now it seemed obvious. I knew I would come across people who had known me when I had been at The Centre as a child but I guess I hadn't wanted to think about the possibility of working closely with them. Ten years had changed me considerably - I still had my wild curls but now they were always carefully pinned up. I had also taken the precaution of wearing glasses to make me look less like the child I once was and more like the secretary that I was supposed to be. Would that be enough to keep Sydney from recognising me? It would have to be.  
  
When I didn't reply, Mr Jones became anxious. "You do still want this, don't you?"  
  
I shook myself. "Yes, of course! Thank you so much, Mr Jones." Overriding my desire to be cautious, I embraced him. "You have no idea what this means to me."  
  
He held me gently. Feelings of warmth flooded through him. For me, I realised with surprise. For the most fleeting of moments, I felt safe. Almost as if I was back with my lovely computer nerd whose only desire in the world was to protect me. Safe, but not free. Never free.  
  
Eventually he pulled away, his hands still on my shoulders. His eyes looked so soft. I felt almost a little intoxicated by the sweet emotions radiating from him. "Melinda," he began in a whisper, "I know you don't return the feelings I have for you." I tried to speak but he silenced me with gentle fingers on my lips. "It doesn't matter. All I want is for you to promise me that you'll be careful up there. The Centre can sometimes be a dangerous place."  
  
An understatement if ever there was one but I nodded. "I promise."  
  
"I'll always be here for you, if you need anything. Particularly any political manipulations which could use my administrative touch." He smiled. "I've really enjoyed stirring up the waters. Thank you for believing in me when no-one else does."  
  
"No problem." I whispered. With a start I realised that I trusted him. Trust can kill you. Okay, so not enough to tell him who I was and of what I was capable or even part of what I was planning - but I could trust him enough to perhaps accept his offer of assistance in the future and that he would not let me down. I could sense what else he needed me to say and it didn't matter because it was what I wanted to say. "Your friendship is very important to me."  
  
Relief and gratitude flowed from him. He was thankful that I had not rejected him completely, that even though I did not share his feelings, I still cared about him in some way. He was fairly perceptive for someone without my talents - and for a man - and he somehow understood that there was something different about me, that I had things to accomplish that were more important than romance. I sensed a thought whispering in his head, "Maybe someday."  
  
I smiled, feeling sad, and kissed him softly on the cheek before turning to leave his office to finish off my last day in the Administration Department.  
  
I hardly slept at all that night. I tossed and turned, plagued by half- remembered nightmares. They were the same nightmares I'd been having well before I left The Centre. The scene of Catherine's death replayed over and over just as I'd witnessed it with my mind all those years ago was prominent amongst them. Different versions of Catherine betraying me by revealing my hidden powers - something that had never happened in real life but was no less horrifying in a dream - another constant of my night-time dreaming. Now a new nightmare scene emerged, in relation to my current situation and all the things that could go wrong - and in particular, would end up with me once more being trapped within the darkness of The Centre.  
  
Even though I was afraid, I had no choice but to continue on the path I had laid out for myself. So the next morning I arose early and with shaking hands set about taming my curls into a french roll and making sure my disguise was complete. This time it would be all important. This time I was going to be around Sydney. I had to do my best to ensure I looked as little like the child he once knew and more like Miss Parker's new personal assistant.  
  
I studied my reflection carefully, comparing it to what I remembered of the impression Sydney had of me as a child. One of my abilities is knowing how other people see me and even what they think of me - not a good thing if you don't have a strong sense of self-value. It didn't bother me because people's impressions of me came from how I was acting at the time which was based on what they wanted to me to be. They weren't aware of the real me, just who I had become in order to get what I needed from them. I decided that I looked suitably altered from the way Sydney remembered me so I gathered my things together, grabbed my car keys and headed for the door.  
  
I was too nervous to eat so I drove straight to The Centre. My nerves were so on edge that I thought for a moment that the Sweeper at the entrance was going to stop me. I took a deep breath, stretched out my senses and brushed his mind lightly. His thoughts were only about how bored he was and how he would rather be fishing. The scene he had painted in his mind was so peaceful and calm that it, as well as the fact that his thoughts were not of accosting me, helped me to relax. He waved me through, barely glancing at my ID.  
  
Not long after I was standing at the heavy double doors that opened onto the area set aside for Miss Parker's team. Drawing on the calm inspired by the fishing scene helpfully supplied a few moments before, I leaned on them and entered the room with my senses on full alert. I looked around the open space and saw two sets of double doors, one of which no doubt led into Miss Parker's office. The other I assumed was Sydney's - though it might belong to the Mr Lyle I had been hearing about. Strange that Miss Parker had a twin brother - the one that Catherine had believed to have been stillborn - but that shouldn't have surprised me, The Centre was a strange place full of stranger things.  
  
The central floorspace was occupied by a few desks, a lounge suite, and the other usual office paraphernalia, such as filing cabinets, computers, etc. Even with my abilities, if I hadn't been concentrating I might have missed the person hunched in front of an impressive computer setup in one corner of the room. He was thin, with a boyish face despite the loss of almost all of his hair. What was left of his hair was cropped close in a Patrick Stewart/Captain Picard kind of way that I found quite attractive.  
  
I approached his desk and spoke, "Excuse me?"  
  
He jumped, gave a small squeak and promptly knocked his cup of coffee onto the floor.  
  
"Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." I quickly bent to help mop up the mess with some tissues which were sitting on his desk.  
  
"No, no.." he stammered. "My fault. I guess I'm a little jumpy this morning." And every other morning as well, I felt him silently add. "What can I do to help y." His words cut off short as he glanced up at me. He stared. I began to wonder if I had a smudge on my face or something so I quickly checked how he perceived me to find out what he was so surprised about. I was shocked to discover that through his eyes I looked beautiful. If only I really looked like that, I thought to myself ruefully, he obviously doesn't get out much! However, that little boost to my ego helped boost my courage as well so for that I was grateful to him.  
  
He recovered himself and gave me a sweet little smile. "Hi, I'm Broots. I guess you're Miss Parker's new PA."  
  
I held out my hand. "That's right. My name is Melinda." It suited me that personnel at The Centre tended only to be known by one name. I had no idea what my real last name was. I had used my former employer's - my lovely computer nerd - mother's maiden name on my job application and now that application had been conveniently 'misplaced' by Mr Jones after I had mentioned I didn't really want The Centre to contact my friend now I had the position. In fact, I didn't even know what my real first name was and the name I was using now was not even what I had been known as when I was at The Centre.  
  
He shook hands with me and said most sincerely, "Good luck." I didn't need my abilities as his voice alone implied that he thought I was going to need it.  
  
"So," I said breezily, "Is Sydney around yet? I'm supposed to report in to him."  
  
"Yeah. Miss Parker's gonna be late today." Broots replied. "Sydney's in his office", he pointed towards one of the sets of doors before jumping up swiftly. "I'll introduce you."  
  
Following Broots through the doors, I had to fight the urge to dig my fingernails into my palms. I prayed that Sydney would not recognise me. Sydney was seated behind a large desk reading through some notes by the light of his desklamp. The lack of natural light in this place made it seem as if everyone here was working late into the night - even when it was only mid-morning. He glanced up as we entered. "Good morning, Broots!" He greeted warmly.  
  
"Morning, Sydney." Broots replied. "Syd, this is Melinda. She's gonna be Miss Parker's personal assistant!" He announced my new position with a certain amount of mischievous glee.  
  
Sydney appeared amused by the concept. I began to wonder exactly what kind of woman Catherine's daughter had turned out to be - and why the mention of her usually evoked strong reactions from people. "Welcome, Melinda. I hope you enjoy a challenge."  
  
"I most certainly do." I said bravely as I looked him straight in the eye. He smiled encouragingly.  
  
Sydney had aged well in the ten years since I had seen him and he still exuded the same strong, confident, calming air that I had known all those years ago. There were changes though - a little bitterness, a lot of guilt, and regrets - that weren't there before. These changes made him feel somehow more real to me than he had ever been before. This time however I was perceiving him through my adult senses - I was no longer the frightened and desperate child who saw him as a potential source of refuge but so unreachable, so mysterious, so unattainable.  
  
I delved a little to see if I could ascertain whether my disguise had worked. It had apparently. There was no recognition from Sydney's viewpoint. All that emanated from him was a sense of interest in what lay in store for their little team with me as a new player. In particular, he and Broots were both anticipating with barely concealed glee as to what might happen when Miss Parker arrived. As for myself, I wasn't really looking forward to that moment.  
  
"Broots," Sydney suggested. "Why don't you show Melinda around this section of the building and get her settled in before Miss Parker arrives."  
  
Broots leapt at the chance, delighted to have me put into his care. "Sure, no problem."  
  
The tour took my mind off my impending meeting with Miss Parker and I had a very nice time being shown all the facilities by Broots. He pointed the lunchroom out to me - much nicer than the one I had used whilst working in the Admin Department - hesitatingly suggesting that we might have lunch together sometime. He was a little surprised when I easily agreed but was pleased nonetheless.  
  
When we arrived back, he showed me my desk with its computer and phone system. He also upgraded my log-on for my computer to reflect my promotion. This would mean I had access to more information. I already knew how to operate both the telephone and computer systems but I let him teach me anyway. It seemed to mean a lot to him and I liked him enough already to play along. He even installed a cute little screensaver for me which I thought was very sweet of him.  
  
Broots was more than the nervous computer geek he seemed to be, however, I was unable to sense exact details except that he was divorced, had a daughter whom he loved more than anything, and that he thought I was very attractive. This puzzled me. Perhaps it was just that he reminded me so much of my former employer - who was also a lovely computer nerd - that it clouded my perception of him. I would just have to get to know him the old- fashioned way for now - or at least take note of how others perceived him until I could get a better idea.  
  
Broots gave me a few bits and pieces to do - as I would be taking on some of his tasks. I tried not to complete them too quickly but it was all pretty routine stuff. It surprised me that such work was given to a computer technician when it should really have been sent to the Admin Department. That didn't seem to say much for Miss Parker's opinion of Broots. Or did it say something about Broots that he would accept such work without complaint?  
  
I asked Sydney if he had anything else for me to do - I hardly wanted to be sitting around doing nothing when Miss Parker arrived. He gave me a huge stack of his notes to type.  
  
"Just do a little bit here and there when you get a chance. There's no urgency for these." He said. "Obviously Miss Parker's work will have priority."  
  
I was tempted to try a little trick I had discovered one day when my boss had been at a conference and I had felt like going shopping. I worked out that I could just hold the handwritten notes, concentrate and the words would instantly appear on the computer screen already typed. The problem was that unless I concentrated really hard on it being word-for-word, the completed document ended up being what the writer would have eventually put in their final version due to the combination of the actual written words and the feeling from the writer imbued in them. I thought that was very efficient - cutting out the middle man so to speak - no revising of drafts over and over again. However, I found out the hard way that employers don't really like you changing what they've written, even if it was what they really wanted to say in the end.  
  
A couple of times I had tested my powers in this area further. My boss would say he was going to write a letter for me to type. Before he had even put his pen to paper, I would concentrate on him and then on my computer and with a little effort the letter would just appear! Later I would check it against what he had written and was pleasantly surprised by the result.  
  
However, I decided that I would just type Sydney's notes without using my abilities as it was not worth the risk of being discovered. No-one at The Centre had any idea of what I was capable of doing. Only Catherine had known and even she had not known anywhere near the extent of my gifts.  
  
For as long as I could remember I had half-wished that I was normal - not 'special' - because being 'special' in The Centre could mean all sorts of terrible things. However, my abilities were also an important part of who I was and denying them all those years had been difficult. I had had to be very careful in any experimenting I did with them. One false move and I could be labelled a 'Pretender' or even perhaps something worse. Being a 'Pretender' meant being isolated from the other children in The Centre and having your every move monitored - and if you were assigned to someone like the feared Dr Raines then you might just wish you were dead.  
  
Once I had put The Centre behind me - as much as one could anyway - I had more opportunity to explore my long hidden talents, although I always displayed a great degree of caution. The most important thing I had discovered was something that I had always believed but never known for sure to be true. That I was powerful. Very powerful. This knowledge filled me with a sense of confidence that I had never experienced before. This feeling of empowerment eventually gave me the courage I needed to return to The Centre to confront my past.  
  
First, however, I would have to confront Miss Parker, the daughter of the woman I had loved but had failed to save.  
  
  
  
I desperately crave feedback! Please let me know what you think of my fic - min_coates@hotmail.com 


	3. The New Boss

Chapter Three: The New Boss  
  
"Who the hell are you?" demanded an annoyed voice.  
  
Broots and I looked up from where we were laughing over a joke sent to him via email and froze like small animals dazzled by headlights. The tall, attractive woman standing just inside the doors glared at us with cool eyes. The contrast of the heat of her anger and the coldness of her gaze was frightening.  
  
Broots recovered first. "Miss Parker! This is Melinda." He trailed off as Miss Parker's stare bored into me. I was staring back. Broots looked at us both with alarm. He glanced towards Sydney's door as if willing him to appear.  
  
I had stopped breathing. It was Catherine! My god! The only person I had ever trusted seemed to be standing right before me. I had known Miss Parker looked a lot like her mother - people had talked about it - but it had thrown me completely off-guard to find that their outward appearances were practically identical. I knew she wasn't Catherine but I reached out with my senses towards her trying to reclaim the feeling of safety and comfort that being near Catherine had always given me. I recoiled them immediately with shock. I was so disappointed I could have cried. Miss Parker was nothing like her mother at all. She felt hard, angry, dispassionate, controlled. Maybe too controlled, I thought suddenly and delved gently again.  
  
Then her pain hit me - deep emotional hurt. She had been let down so many times that she didn't trust anyone anymore - sometimes not even herself - and she was as hungry for answers as myself. Beneath the pain and the hard, angry walls she had built up I finally found what I had been looking for - here was her mother in her and the true essence of the little girl she had once been - sweet, vulnerable and compassionate.  
  
It was her physical pain that I could do something about. I reached out again and thought coolness towards the ulcer seething within her stomach. She visibly relaxed with relief.  
  
I swiftly took the opportunity to close the gap between us and handed her the memo with my reassignment details on it. "I've been assigned to your team as your personal assistant, Miss Parker. Mr Jones, the Admin Manager discussed it with you yesterday."  
  
Broots leapt in - he definitely wanted me to stay around. "Remember, you were really pis." He hesitated for a moment as Miss Parker raised her eyebrows at him. ".unhappy with the inefficiencies of the Admin Department."  
  
"Yes, yes, whatever." She practically snatched the memo from my hands and scanned it quickly. I sent her a gentle suggestion that having me around might be useful and she announced. "I guess having you around might prove to be better than dealing with that pathetic department. I despise incompetence."  
  
"I'm sure you will be more than happy with my work, Miss Parker." I replied, already becoming what she wanted from me. Strong without challenging her authority, confident without arrogance and showing deference to her without grovelling pathetically at her feet.  
  
"We'll see about that. I'll let you know as we go as to what I expect from you. Do you have something to go on with now?"  
  
"Yes, Miss Parker. Sydney gave me some typing."  
  
"Fine. I'll call for you when I'm ready." With that she turned and marched into her office, flinging the doors open before her.  
  
"She obviously hasn't had a good morning." I remarked dryly to Broots once her office doors had closed.  
  
"She never has good mornings." Broots sighed dramatically. "And things have been even worse since she quit smoking. If she gives up caffeine, we'll all be doomed."  
  
I laughed. Working with Broots was going to be something I would enjoy. In his mind, it was us two non-executive types surviving together in the murky world of The Centre. I liked that idea. I also liked that he viewed me as being 'normal' like him, meaning that we had both originally come from outside The Centre and didn't have long complicated histories with it. Little did he know.  
  
I wondered what his opinion of me would be if he knew who I really was. Would he think I was a freak? Would he be frightened of me? Would he be first in line to see me locked up again? I thrust those dark thoughts aside - there was no need to think about it since no-one was ever going to know my secret if I could help it. Trust can kill you. Besides, why should I care what Broots thought? He was just another Centre minion after all. Wasn't he?  
  
As the day wore on, I quizzed Broots about our team. "The chain of command doesn't seem completely clear. Who exactly is in charge of the team? Miss Parker? Or this Mr Lyle person I haven't met yet?"  
  
Broots sighed. "You tell me! As for myself, I consider Miss Parker to be my boss. Occasionally, Mr Lyle will sweep in demanding things - usually after Miss Parker has taken care of the situation already. Oh, and then there's Brigitte." He shuddered.  
  
"Brigitte? I've heard her name mentioned by people in the Admin Department and as a rule she wasn't referred to in a friendly manner. Didn't she get engaged to Miss Parker's father?"  
  
"Yeah, that's really creepy." Broots shuddered again.  
  
"Because of the age difference?" I asked.  
  
"Well, that's part of it." He replied. His unspoken thought was, "And she once tried to kill him."  
  
I barely batted an eyelid. Nothing surprised me about The Centre. "And what about our team's objectives? What do we do exactly?"  
  
Broots hesitated and look apologetic. "I should probably let Miss Parker fill you in on that. Sorry."  
  
"That's okay." I smiled at him and he brightened immediately. It's amazing the effect a smile has on some people. I made a mental note to employ it more often. Broots deserved it. Besides he made me smile anyway.  
  
Just then a man sauntered in looking like he owned the place, a lazy grin crossing his boyish face. He was quite handsome though there was something a little slippery about him somehow which marred the overall appeal. I noticed he was missing the thumb on his left hand. So, this was the mysterious Mr Lyle. The pain of the loss of his thumb wafted over towards me quite strongly, not only the physical pain of the still healing wound but also the pain of embarrassing defeat and loss of face that it symbolised. However, I did not feel the urge to ease his pain as I had with Miss Parker's ulcer. Miss Parker's twin did not really look similar to her at all - except perhaps for those cool grey eyes - which seemed strange considering Miss Parker's extraordinary likeness to Catherine.  
  
"Well, well, well. Who do we have here?" His voice was all oily charm.  
  
"I'm Melinda." I replied smoothly. "Miss Parker's personal assistant. I just transferred over from the Admin Department today. And you are Mr Lyle, I presume."  
  
"That would be correct." He grinned and looked me up and down with exaggerated casualness. "Geez, if I'd known they'd send someone who looks as good as you, maybe I'd have put in a requisition for my own assistant."  
  
Broots bristled, which pleased me for some reason, but I just lowered my eyes and feigned a blush. I held back Mr Lyle's thoughts with great care - some of the things I glimpsed in his mind that he wanted to do to me reminded me too much of my past at The Centre. I fought a sudden urge to knock him down for thinking such things about me. Instead I concentrated on Broots' essence and was calmed. Mr Lyle entered Miss Parker's office, they argued briefly and he left.  
  
"Melinda!" barked Miss Parker's voice from the intercom on my deskphone. Broots and I both jumped.  
  
I looked at Broots. "I guess that means I'm supposed to go see her now."  
  
He nodded.  
  
"I'm just letting you know now that pretty soon I'm going to be begging you to 'accidentally' disable this thing!" I indicated the intercom.  
  
He laughed delightedly. "I'll see what I can do." He called after me. "Oh, and good luck."  
  
Sydney materialised by my side as I was about to lean heavily against the doors to enter Miss Parker's office. He pushed one open and held it for me to go through.  
  
"Thank you." I murmured, feeling uncomfortable being this close to him.  
  
"Miss Parker asked me to join you for your meeting."  
  
"Great." I replied.  
  
"Don't worry. It'll be fine." He assured me quietly with an amused smile, assuming I was nervous about facing Miss Parker.  
  
I nodded and entered the office. Miss Parker rose to her feet. She seemed agitated and I could feel her craving for nicotine was rising to breaking point. I took the edge off that craving with my mind and she calmed. I preferred not to have to deal with an agitated Miss Parker.  
  
"I suppose we should brief you on what we do here." Miss Parker began briskly. "Syd?"  
  
Sydney began, "What we are doing is trying to locate a man." He paused and it was obvious to me that neither of them was sure just how much to tell me. My heart leapt - I already knew who they were talking about. I concentrated on controlling my breathing and showing no outward sign of my inner turmoil. My soul whispered a single word - "Jarod".  
  
Miss Parker continued. "This man is extremely intelligent and was working with The Centre on some special projects. Almost three years ago, he left The Centre and took with him," - her mind said 'stole' - "decades worth of important research. We want it back and we want him to return to continue the work he was doing."  
  
"Why is he so difficult to locate?" I already knew why but was playing my role as innocent newcomer and that involved asking the obvious questions.  
  
Sydney was about to answer but Miss Parker said quickly, "He moves around a lot. Like I told you, he is very smart and he doesn't really want to be found."  
  
"I understand." I said simply - and I understood far more than they realised.  
  
Miss Parker indicated a bundle of papers and files in front of her. "This is what I want you to work on today. This sheet on top is a prioritised list for you to follow. It should be self-explanatory - if you have any problems or don't understand something, then ask Broots before bothering me. I've indicated what I expect to be on my desk by the end of the day. The rest can wait till tomorrow." She looked at me intently. "Do what I ask, when I ask it and we will get along just fine. Understood?"  
  
"Yes, Miss Parker." I was still feeling a little unsettled by our discussion and as I reached for the large bundle of files I accidentally knocked over the silver picture frame on her desk. I picked it up before Miss Parker could. A jolt ran through me when I saw - and felt - the enclosed photo. It was a glorious picture of Catherine smiling joyfully at the baby girl in her arms. I couldn't take my eyes from it. Miss Parker interpreted my reaction as surprise at their likeness.  
  
She quickly took the picture from me and looked at it sadly. "That's my mother. People say all the time how much I look like her. She died when I was young."  
  
"I'm sorry." I said softly, the requisite response. You have no idea how sorry. "I'd better get started on these files." I grabbed the bundle quickly and turned to go so that she would not see the tears forming in my eyes. Sydney did not miss them. He followed me out to my desk.  
  
"Are you alright?" He asked gently.  
  
"Sure. Fine. Why wouldn't I be?" I said quickly. His thoughts whispered across my mind. He was wondering why I was so affected by the picture. A dozen possible reasons were already being sifted through and analysed.  
  
"You seem upset." Typical psychiatrist. He obviously wasn't going to be satisfied without some kind of response from me. Broots was listening for my reply too. Their concern washed over me. I was touched.  
  
"Like I said, I'm fine. It's just that, when I was looking at that photo, I suddenly wondered if Miss Parker realises how much her mother loved her."  
  
Sydney didn't reply but gave me a considering look before nodding thoughtfully and wandering off to his office, his curiosity apparently satisfied for now. Both he and Broots felt somehow pleased with my answer and that already they both considered me a part of their team more than Mr Lyle could ever be. I felt the same way but then remembered what I was there for and knew I had to stay detached as much as possible in case my plans did not fit in with future events involving these people. I would do what I had to do, no matter what.  
  
Over the weeks that followed, however, I became quite attached to Broots. Not only did he make me laugh with his silly jokes but also it was amazingly refreshing for someone with my abilities to be around someone who says how they feel and it matches what I know to be true. Broots was like that - if he was scared, he admitted it. He acknowledged his fears and despite them, would forge ahead and get the job done anyway. I admired that about him. People are always hiding their true thoughts, their true feelings, who they really are. Everyone pretends.  
  
Not so Broots. Having him around comforted me in this horrible place. It also didn't hurt that he thought the world of me - I refused to contemplate how his feelings would change if he found out my secrets - and any comfort I could find was a blessing. The stress of always watching my back was slowly but surely building up inside me. My nightmares increased - if that was possible - and once I had awoken from a nightmare it was nearly impossible for me to return to sleep.  
  
Every day I felt the tension continue to stretch ever more tightly across my emotional nerves. It had not been so bad in the Admin Department when I had just been another faceless secretary, but now as Miss Parker's assistant I was more visible - particularly to those who could potentially recognise me from my past. Sometimes I even ran across Mr Parker or Dr Raines and my breath would catch in my throat and panic would flutter on the edges of my control.  
  
Seeing Sydney was a daily strain that was augmented by memories of my childhood. He was always there, quietly observing, the way he had done for as long as I had known him. Back then, he was a distant figure, rarely seen by us. However, every child there had strained to see him as he passed by, each holding close the idea that maybe one day they would be assigned to him. Sydney was a symbol of hope.  
  
As for myself, I would ever so carefully reach out my senses trying to discern what type of man he was. I had not been as convinced as the other children that he deserved such a positive light. He could just be a lesser evil amongst the cavalcade of devils and monsters that inhabited The Centre. However, existing under the care of a lesser evil would have been better than what we were forced to endure. My untrained, and restrained, powers were never enough to be sure whether I could trust him. I never dared to attract his attention and reveal my gifts to him. I could not have taken the risk. Such horrifying risk especially with all the eyes that were constantly monitoring our every move. So that potential hope had always remained tantalisingly out of my reach.  
  
Now he was right here with me every day. Now I knew what kind of man he was. And I wept inside because, even though I sensed his goodness, I still didn't know whether I could trust him. Trust can kill you. "Or set you free." Catherine's voice echoed in my mind as a reminder. Imagine working with Sydney now! Developing my potential, exploring my abilities - the way he always gently encouraged Broots showed me a hint of what it would be like. but no, it could not be. I buried those eager thoughts mercilessly and repeated to myself, Trust can kill you.  
  
Sometimes I noticed him watching me. He was very perceptive and I knew that he could tell that I was wary of him, the way you would expect a person to be with the unpredictable Miss Parker rather than him. I sensed that this intrigued him and he wanted to know why. But he never said anything. And neither did I.  
  
Both Broots and Miss Parker respected Sydney and valued his opinions. In fact, Broots always looked to him for validation in his daily struggle to please Miss Parker. She rarely congratulated Broots on the work he did. Mostly she was concerned with what wasn't done or couldn't be done - because their ultimate goal was not yet achieved. Often, tensions would rise and Sydney would be the one to step in and calm the situation. I sensed that it was important to her - more than it being her job - there was something else that fuelled her desire to be done with the whole thing. I couldn't easily discern what without digging further so I let it be for now.  
  
Working with Miss Parker should have been difficult. She was very demanding and expected nothing less than complete dedication. However, I found it fairly easy to keep her happy with my work as I had my powers to enhance my ability to anticipate her next order and to do things the way she wanted without her having to spell it out. Plus, people naturally feel comfortable around me because I behave however they would like. It didn't hurt either that whenever I was there, Miss Parker's ulcer was less painful and she didn't feel as desperate for a cigarette.  
  
Gradually, she gained more and more confidence in me and in the work I did for her and began to rely on me. Sometimes I wondered how she'd ever managed without a PA. The most important thing was that, as I was naturally a good listener, she started to open up to me a little. The Centre was a very stressful place to work and in some ways more so for Miss Parker than anyone else. Of course, Sydney was always around to offer his professional opinion and the support of a friend, however, I could see Miss Parker was craving female companionship - the kind she hadn't had since the death of her mother.  
  
Not that I was about to braid her hair and read to her or anything else that she told me she used to do with Catherine, but I felt a certain kinship with her. We both missed Catherine beyond words and, although Miss Parker often retreated abruptly whenever she felt herself letting too much of her feelings show, I was determined to keep trying to connect with her. It sometimes felt like she was the last and only link I had left to the woman who had meant so much to me.  
  
I wanted so much to share with Miss Parker what I knew of Catherine - and of her murder - but that involved telling her of my abilities and of my past within The Centre. I knew it was important for her to truly realise how much her mother had loved her and that Catherine would have done anything for her little girl, but could I trust Miss Parker with my secrets? What about Sydney? Broots? I didn't want to have to hide anymore. I wanted for someone to know me for a change. The stress of being back at The Centre was becoming almost unbearable and I was desperate for someone to trust, but. Trust can kill you. No, I would not trust anyone, however much I wanted to.  
  
I was not to know, however - clairvoyance not being one of my many gifts - that soon it would be taken out of my hands and that everything was about to change.  
  
  
  
I desperately crave feedback! Please let me know what you think of my fic - min_coates@hotmail.com 


	4. Becoming A Musketeer

Chapter Four: Becoming A Musketeer  
  
That particular week, the week before everything changed, was in fact quite eventful in itself. First of all, I had made some progress towards developing a real friendship with Miss Parker. I had never had a female friend and neither had she so the concept was quite new to both of us.  
  
I had mentioned that I was going out for lunch and that perhaps she might like to come along to get away from the office for a while as well. She had agreed and what had started off as lunch became a long lunch followed by a shopping expedition. Away from the pressures of The Centre, both of us were more relaxed and for a little while at least we were just two women with nothing more to worry about than whether we would be able find suitable shoes for a new outfit. Miss Parker had wonderful taste for fashion and she took great pleasure in selecting some beautiful new items for my wardrobe.  
  
As I turned around in front of a mirror examining one particularly flattering grape-coloured suit, I noticed my french roll was looking a little less than perfect after all the trying-on of clothes. I reached up and pulled out the comb that was holding my hair in place, in order to re- do it. Miss Parker actually gasped as my reddish curls tumbled out around my shoulders and down my back. I mentally cursed myself for lowering my guard enough to do something so stupid. After all, Miss Parker would probably not remember me from when we were children - I had never been close enough even to speak to her back then and I doubted she had ever actually seen me - but that was no excuse for taking stupid risks.  
  
She smiled at me - which took me aback a little. She didn't smile very often at all - and mostly there was something menacing about it. However, I had now discovered that when she genuinely smiled, she was truly beautiful - it was like a light had been turned on inside her and that light reminded me of Catherine. She spoke. "You have incredible hair! Those curls! Why do you never wear it down?"  
  
I shrugged, thought quickly, and replied off-hand. "Oh, it gets in my way too much at work."  
  
She nodded. "And I have only seen you at work."  
  
We both were silent for a moment and I swiftly twisted my hair up again and replaced the comb. Miss Parker gazed appraisingly at the outfit I was wearing. Her smile, as well as the satisfied feeling radiating from her, told me that we would be purchasing it.  
  
"You should wear this one back to the office." Her smile grew wider as she added. "Broots won't know what hit him."  
  
I blushed furiously and was surprised at how exceedingly pleased I was by her suggestion. "What's that supposed to you mean?" I asked feeling a bit silly but wanting to know more. I felt like I was back at high school - and I hadn't ever been to high school.  
  
Miss Parker laughed delightedly. "You can't tell me you haven't noticed the way he hangs on your every word. It's so obvious."  
  
"What's obvious?" I mumbled, feeling a little bewildered, but enjoying this conversation. As the saleswoman attended to us, other shoppers browsed nearby and Miss Parker teased me about Broots, the whole scene seemed so normal, so ordinary, that for a moment I felt oddly content.  
  
"That he likes you, silly." Miss Parker announced. "I think he'd love to ask you out."  
  
"Really?" I blushed again and grinned stupidly. "Well now, what do you know." What was going on? Why was I grinning like an idiot? I had a vague idea that Broots liked me and we certainly got along really well but I still seemed to have some kind of block where he was concerned - or perhaps I was too scared to perceive truly what his feelings for me might be.  
  
Miss Parker and I bantered some more on the way back to work. By the time, we returned we were both feeling quite relaxed and even perhaps a little happy.  
  
Sydney commented. "Well, your outing seems to have done you both quite a bit of good. That suit looks lovely on you, Melinda."  
  
"Thank you." I replied shyly, accepting the compliment as gracefully as I could - after all, I had never received any as a child, except of course from Catherine. I didn't feel quite as in awe of Sydney as I had been but he still maintained a certain quality of mystique to me.  
  
Broots came into the office, having just gotten a fresh cup of coffee, and I nervously awaited his reaction. He rewarded me with a double-take and by missing his desk completely when he went to set down his cup. Miss Parker flashed me a quick 'I told you so' look and a grin before vanishing into her office. When the door shut behind her, I thought of the door that had been opened between us that afternoon and hoped it would not be closed again so easily.  
  
I hurried to help Broots mop up his spilt coffee. Luckily the cup had not broken. Embarrassment radiated from him so I teased him gently. "Whoa, did you just get a sense of deja vu?  
  
"Huh?" Confusion clouded his features.  
  
I grinned and punched his arm lightly. "Kinda reminds me of the first time we met."  
  
He flushed and chuckled. "Yeah, sure does." He added softly. "You look really nice."  
  
It was my turn to blush.  
  
Sydney had watched this exchange with interest. It pleased him that I was kind to Broots and that we had become friends. Gaining Sydney's approval felt extremely satisfying somehow - though that was not why I had become close to Broots. It had just happened naturally - and it felt good.  
  
The mood was broken by the appearance of Brigitte - she did not look amused. Sydney retreated to the safety of his office but I sensed he was still observing the scene from behind the door. Broots looked like he'd also rather be elsewhere and I could sense him contemplating finding something suddenly urgent to do somewhere else. However, despite that he stayed put because he didn't want to desert me! I felt a sudden urge to hug him.  
  
"Where the hell is Miss Parker?" Brigitte whined angrily. "I've been calling her office all afternoon."  
  
"I'm sorry, Bridget." I began, thinking that I wasn't sorry at all.  
  
"Brigitte." She emphasised the french sound of the word, obviously annoyed.  
  
"Whatever." I replied off-hand. I knew that acting the way she required was the smart thing to do but there was something about the woman and her smug condescending ways that irritated me beyond words and I couldn't do it. "Miss Parker returned to the office only a moment ago."  
  
As Brigitte moved towards Miss Parker's office, I stood in her way. "Get out of my way!" She practically shrieked.  
  
"I apologise, Brigitte, but Miss Parker gave me strict instructions that she was not to be disturbed by anyone for at least an hour." This was a blatant lie but I didn't want Brigitte to ruin the lovely afternoon we had shared just yet. Miss Parker deserved an hour's peace.  
  
"I'm not just anyone! I'm her mother." Her voice rose a few octaves and she stamped her foot like a spoilt child. Mr Parker and Brigitte had actually married a few weeks ago. I couldn't help shuddering at that thought.  
  
"Step-mother." I said quietly but firmly, feeling like adding 'wicked' to the front of that. "That's all very well, but I'm afraid I still can't let you see Miss Parker right now. Perhaps you would like to leave a message?" I smiled infuriatingly sweetly at her. I heard something that sounded suspiciously like a snicker hurriedly choked back coming from the direction of Broots.  
  
Brigitte missed it, thank goodness. "No, I would not like to leave a message." She said emphasising each word through carefully gritted teeth.  
  
"Well then, I can't help you I'm afraid." I replied politely. "Please feel free to return again in an hour. I'm sure Miss Parker will be happy to make some time for you then."  
  
She glared at me, biting down hard on one of those stupid lollypops she always ate until it cracked, before turning and flouncing away.  
  
Admiration radiated from Broots and a similar feeling also emanated from the direction of Sydney's office as he emerged once again now the storm had passed.  
  
"Whoa." Broots breathed. "Did Miss Parker really tell you she wasn't to be disturbed?"  
  
I shook my head and shrugged. "What can I say? I lied."  
  
"Are you sure that was wise?" Sydney asked, though I sensed he was quite happy about what I had done. I was beginning to wonder about the wisdom of my actions myself. What had I been thinking? It was not exactly sensible to make an enemy of Brigitte. She was annoying and often acted like a child but she could also be very dangerous.  
  
I shrugged. "Probably not, but I just couldn't help it. Besides, I didn't think it was fair to ruin Miss Parker's afternoon straight away."  
  
Sydney nodded understandingly.  
  
Miss Parker emerged. "Did something just happen? I thought I heard someone shrieking."  
  
Broots spluttered with suppressed laughter. "That was Brigitte."  
  
"Brigitte?" Miss Parker's eyebrows raised with interest.  
  
"Oh yeah." Broots replied. "It's okay, Melinda got rid of her for you."  
  
The three of us - Sydney, Broots and I - exchanged glances and then burst into laughter. Miss Parker looked at us quizzically waiting for an explanation.  
  
I grinned, buoyed by the others' amusement. "I pretty much told her that absence makes the heart grow fonder so perhaps she should consider leaving." Sure, it had been a stupid move but it certainly had felt great at the time.  
  
Miss Parker smiled. "Really?"  
  
"Well, not in those exact words, of course." Broots cut in quickly. "Melinda was very polite. Very professional."  
  
I was rewarded with a brilliant smile as Miss Parker imagined the exchange. "Well, well, well," she said, sounding both amused and impressed, "perhaps I should consider giving you a raise then."  
  
I perceived her acceptance of me in a daze. They all accepted me. I was part of their team and as such was awarded with their loyalty and trust. They were the Three Musketeers and I was D'Artagnion. All for one and one for all and all that. It felt really good to belong, to not be alone anymore. The feeling was marred by the certainty that if they knew the truth about who I was then they might not be so accepting. My heart was heavy with that knowledge.  
  
A significant indication of my acceptance as a full member of the team came later that week. A sweeper team had returned from the last known location of the ever elusive Jarod with a couple of boxes full of the things he had left behind.  
  
Sydney approached my desk carrying one of the boxes. "Melinda, I have to take these boxes to someone who might be able to work out where Jarod went by looking through these things. As you know, Broots is otherwise occupied fixing a glitch in our computer system and Sam," - Sam was Miss Parker's personal sweeper "went with Miss Parker to her meeting. Would you be able to come with me to carry the other box?"  
  
I sensed that this was a big thing he was allowing me to do. Who was this person we were going to see? "Sure, no problem."  
  
"Great. The other box is on my desk. I'll meet you by the elevator." He left the office carrying his box with ease.  
  
I stood up slowly and carefully. It had been hard to concentrate on my work with those boxes in Sydney's office practically calling to me. However, there had been no way to get to them without arousing suspicion. Now I had free access to one of them - and in private. I hurried into Sydney's office and took hold of the box. I looked inside and picked up an empty Pez dispenser from within. Strong emotions overwhelmed me as I stared at it with intense concentration.  
  
"Oh, Jarod." I whispered brokenly, as his beautiful, powerful essence permeated my senses like the drug that it was. How long had I yearned to truly remember what it felt like to be near his spirit again. How safe it had made me feel. Jarod had been my only comfort - my only refuge - from the horrors inflicted upon me once Catherine was no longer around to protect me. I owed my sanity, and perhaps my life, to someone I had never met in person - and he wasn't aware of my existence at all.  
  
I brushed away the tears streaming down my face. Sydney would be waiting for me. I dropped the Pez dispenser back in the box, picked the box up with shaking hands and went to meet Sydney at the elevator.  
  
As we made our way through The Centre, Sydney noticed that there was something less than composed about me but he chose not to say anything for which I was very grateful even though it bothered me that he was always watching, observing everything. He saw more than I wanted him to and what he saw intrigued him. This added to the stress slowly building up within me. I really had to be more careful, I told myself.  
  
Sydney eventually led me into a small room and motioned for me to put my box alongside his near the door. Sitting in the corner of the rather dark room was a man. I stood motionless as he got up from the floor and approached us.  
  
"Good afternoon, Angelo." greeted Sydney.  
  
Angelo did not respond. He wasn't even looking at Sydney. He was instead staring at me as I was staring at him. His eyes lit up with recognition and before I could stop him he had gathered me up in an embrace. "Friend." He said quietly.  
  
Sydney was fascinated by this reaction and that frightened me. I quickly pulled away and sent Angelo a quick mental warning. Later, I promise. He nodded almost imperceptibly. "I guess he likes me." I laughed nervously.  
  
"It would seem so." replied Sydney. He turned to Angelo. "Angelo, could you have a look through these things for me?"  
  
Angelo moved towards the boxes and began pulling things out one by one. Sydney then turned to me. "Melinda, will you be alright here for a moment? I have to get a file from my office. All you need to do is write down anything Angelo says about any of the objects. He won't hurt you."  
  
"Sure, Sydney. I'll be fine." I replied, taking the notepad from Sydney's outstretched hand. Sydney gazed at me for an uncomfortable minute and then was gone.  
  
Angelo stopped his perusal of the boxes and came towards me again. This time I swept him up in a warm hug. "I have missed you so much, Timmy." I whispered.  
  
"There is no more Timmy." replied Angelo sadly.  
  
I held him more tightly. "I know."  
  
Did I ever. I had known the boy, Timmy, both before and after Dr Raines' hideous experiments had turned Timmy's outward perceptions inward and made him the empath now known as Angelo. I knew all this because I was to blame.  
  
I felt Sydney returning so I released Angelo with regret. I spoke to him with my mind. My name is Melinda now. They don't know I was here before. Will you keep my secret? Angelo smiled and nodded. I breathed a sigh of relief and he went back to the boxes just as Sydney re-entered the room.  
  
"Has he said anything yet?" asked Sydney.  
  
"Nothing that will help us find Jarod." I replied quite honestly.  
  
"Thank you, Melinda." He took the empty notebook from me. "I'll take over now. Could you see if Broots and Miss Parker are back yet and if they are then could you send them down here please? Then it'll be about time for you to head home, won't it?"  
  
"Home?" I repeated dumbly. The word sounded strange to me because I had never really had a home. The first fifteen years of my life had been spent at The Centre and for most of the next ten I had lived with my lovely computer nerd, sharing his life, his work and his house - but it had never been my home. Now all I had was a tiny, almost empty, apartment with nothing but my memories and my nightmares to keep me company. Suddenly, I felt extremely alone and not at all looking forward to the weekend which now stretched hauntingly long before me.  
  
"Yes. It's getting quite late. Any big plans for the weekend?" Sydney echoed my thoughts.  
  
I sighed, "No. I guess it'll be a good chance to get my washing done, hey?"  
  
Sydney grinned mysteriously. "Well, don't despair just yet. I have a feeling you should probably keep tomorrow night free."  
  
"Saturday night? Why?" I asked even though I knew he wasn't planning to tell me more.  
  
"You'll just have to wait and see." He smiled again and I got the distinct impression that it had something to with Broots. Intriguing.  
  
"Okay. Good night, Sydney. See you later, Angelo." Angelo didn't look up but I heard his farewell in my head. Visit again soon. I promised I would.  
  
"Sydney?" I hesitated at the door. "What does Jarod look like? I mean, it's not like I need to know - it's not as if I'm going to run across him in the street or anything. I guess I'm just curious." Even though I knew it was quite an ordinary question to ask, it didn't stop my heart from pounding. I had often wondered what Jarod looked like - to know his spirit so well and not be able to see his face was something that had bothered me for a long time. I could easily have ascertained his appearance from any of the people here who knew him but somehow I didn't want their impressions clouding things.  
  
Sydney got out his wallet and removed a small photo. The fact that he had Jarod's photo in his wallet did not surprise me as he would need to show it to people he was questioning about Jarod's whereabouts. What did surprise me was that he glanced at it briefly before handing it to me with a smile that radiated a kind of fatherly pride.  
  
I steeled myself - with Sydney standing right there, waiting to observe my reaction, I would have to be very careful. I forced my hands not to shake and dropped my eyes to the picture.  
  
It was a good thing that I had prepared myself. Jarod was gorgeous. He was beautiful right down to the little mole under one of his soulful brown eyes. With Jarod's face indelibly imprinted on my mind, I gave the photo back to Sydney. "He's um.. pretty good looking actually." I stammered, feeling very shaken.  
  
Sydney seemed amused but then his emotions changed to something else. He was thinking about how young I was and he was worried for Broots for some reason. How strange. Did he think I was some teenager about to develop a huge crush on Jarod just because he was good looking? From my experience - and with the aid of my abilities - I knew that just because someone is attractive on the outside doesn't guarantee beauty on the inside. In Jarod's case, however, I already knew that he had a beautiful soul and now I had discovered that it also came in a very attractive package.  
  
"Anyway, I guess I'll see you Monday, Sydney."  
  
I hurried out of the room, without waiting for a reply. As I closed the door behind me I heard Angelo murmur, "Melinda... lonely."  
  
And Sydney's reply was, "Well, we'll see what we can do about that."  
  
When I returned to the office, Broots was back, obviously having fixed whatever computer problem had arisen. He seemed to be waiting for me.  
  
"Melinda!" He grinned happily. "Where have you been?"  
  
I explained that Sydney had taken me with him when he went to see Angelo.  
  
"Oh." He replied, evidently uncertain as to how much I had been told about Angelo.  
  
"Yeah. Angelo seems nice. Doesn't talk much, does he?" I spoke casually.  
  
Broots relaxed. "Nope. Not much." He paused, again uncertain - and nervous. "Listen, are you doing anything tomorrow night?"  
  
I smiled. "As a matter of fact, I'm not. Did you have something in mind?"  
  
"Well, you know my daughter, Debbie?"  
  
"Not personally." I laughed.  
  
He laughed too and tried again. "Anyway, she's staying at a friend's place and I was thinking about going to see a movie. Would you perhaps like to come with me? Like on a.. you know."  
  
"Date?" I finished for him gently. "Sure, I'd love to."  
  
"Really?" He asked, sounding amazed. He had expected me to try to qualify it into a 'just as friends' thing.  
  
"Of course." I smiled again. He was so sweet. "How about you give me a call tomorrow during the day and we can work out the details." I almost felt like asking him to call me in a few hours as well. The thought of my empty apartment was still weighing on my mind.  
  
"Okay, that'd be great!" He enthused.  
  
"Oh, Sydney wants you and Miss Parker to join him in Angelo's room. Is she back from the meeting yet?"  
  
"No, but I bet she wishes she was. When I went past the conference room just now, it did not sound pretty in there at all."  
  
"Hmm." I mused. "Maybe we should go rescue her. What do you think?"  
  
"Geez, I don't know." He looked a little white.  
  
"Follow me, Broots, I'll show you how it's done." I grabbed his hand and he followed me meekly to the conference room.  
  
"Are you sure about this?" Broots whispered, as we approached the doors where Sam, Miss Parker's sweeper, was waiting outside impassively.  
  
"Positive." I replied firmly. "Hey Sam." Sam nodded in reply. The raised voices inside the conference room were easily discernable from the corridor just as Broots had indicated. However, it was the atmosphere that I sensed within that fueled my determination to get Miss Parker out of there. I could feel her distress and frustration clearly. I swung open the doors and entered the room before Broots could stop me. Even Sam looked a little surprised.  
  
Not as surprised as those within. Mr Parker, Mr Lyle, Mr Raines, Brigitte and Miss Parker all went silent and stared at me. I didn't feel afraid - despite the room being filled with people who could pose a serious threat to my future - because all that mattered was Miss Parker.  
  
She blinked. "Melinda. What can I do for you?"  
  
"I apologise for interrupting your meeting, Miss Parker, but Sydney asked me to let you know he needs to see you as soon as possible.  
  
Miss Parker knew an escape when she was being offered one. "It must be important then. I'll come at once." She stood immediately and left with me before anyone could raise any objection.  
  
Broots scuttled nervously out of the way as we came through the doors - he'd obviously been listening. I could easily sense his admiration of my daring.  
  
Miss Parker turned to me. "So, what's so urgent?"  
  
I grinned ruefully. "Oh, you know, Sydney's with Angelo and those boxes of Jarod's stuff. He thought you and Broots should join him when you were free."  
  
"That's it?" She asked incredulously. She gave me a dazzling smile. "You are a godsend."  
  
I shrugged with mock nonchalance but couldn't help smiling back. "Just doing my job, boss."  
  
"Okay, Sam and Broots, you're with me. Let's go." She said briskly. "We'd better let Melinda go home now to get changed."  
  
Broots and I looked at each other, puzzled. "Changed?" I asked. What was she talking about?  
  
"Oh, didn't I tell you?" Miss Parker's eyes gleamed with mischief. "Tommy is cooking dinner tonight and we want you to come. He's looking forward to meeting you. My house at eight."  
  
I stared at her in surprise. Miss Parker was inviting me to dinner to meet her boyfriend, Thomas? Tonight? I could hardly believe it.  
  
She continued, adding in an offhand way. "Oh and why don't you bring Broots with you - make it an even number." She looked at me knowingly. 'Bitch.' I thought with affection 'That was hardly subtle.'  
  
I grinned at Broots. "So what do you think, Broots? Wanna make it two nights in a row?"  
  
"Sure. Why not?" He grinned back.  
  
Miss Parker raised an eyebrow. "Two nights?"  
  
"Broots and I are planning to go to the movies tomorrow night." I explained.  
  
"Is that so." Miss Parker remarked, clearly pleased. "Well we should get moving and get finished with Angelo if Broots wants to arrange a sitter for Debbie for tonight. I'll see you then, Melinda." She strode off down the corridor with Sam at her heels, obviously expecting Broots to also follow.  
  
Broots said softly to me. "Do you want me to pick you up at a quarter to eight?"  
  
I nodded happily. "Until then."  
  
"Until then." He hurried to catch up with Miss Parker and Sam but turned back a few times to smile brightly at me. I smiled back easily and waved. They disappeared around a corner and I was alone.  
  
Now that there was no longer anyone around to distract me, my thoughts were able to whirl freely through my head. The idea of dinner at Miss Parker's and a date with Broots were pretty exciting and overwhelming things to contemplate. However, I still couldn't ignoring my nagging fear that if my new friends - for that is what I had to admit they were becoming - discovered the truth about me that they would turn from me and I would lose them.  
  
Then I would be truly alone. I would have no-one, except of course for my lovely computer nerd who would always be there waiting for me. I felt the urge to call him, to hear his familiar voice, but I couldn't take the risk of contacting him - perhaps ever again. There was no way I could allow The Centre to link him to me just in case things went wrong. It was the least I could do for him after all those years of taking care of me - and for encouraging me to return to confront my past when hiding away doing nothing became unbearable - even though my leaving broke his heart.  
  
Angelo. I still had dear Angelo. However, even though he had never blamed me for what had been done to him, I couldn't help but feel responsible and that guilt weighed heavily on me and made it hard to gain any comfort from Angelo's presence.  
  
As I approached my car, which was parked in the carpark near The Centre, all those demons from my past swirled up to haunt me, the past I could never escape.  
  
If only I had been able to save Catherine. The very next day she had planned to rescue me from The Centre - along with Jarod, Angelo and the other children. Then along with Miss Parker, Catherine's beloved daughter, we would all have escaped together to Europe. What a life I might have had! What lives we might all have had. Safe and free in the warmth of Catherine's love, I would have grown up with Miss Parker. And Jarod.  
  
Oh Jarod. Had I, with my lack of courage, left it too late to return to The Centre? By the time I had returned, Jarod had already escaped - after learning of the evil deeds performed by The Centre using his work - and had been out in the real world for two years. Would it have helped him if I had returned earlier - if he had known earlier of the true horrific nature of The Centre? Could I have spared him even a little pain? I owed him everything but had I already failed him?  
  
I stopped beside my car and buried my face in my hands. All the tension and stress that had been building up within me, slowly but surely, since my return burst forth in torturous agony. Would I ever be free?  
  
Overcome as I was, I failed to become aware of the figure who approached me from behind. I did, however, feel the cold sharp steel at my throat and heard his harsh guttural voice in my ear.  
  
"Don't move, don't scream - or I'll kill you. Now, give me your handbag."  
  
I struggled to control the turmoil of my emotions enough to concentrate on using my powers against my attacker but then his true purpose hit my mind with a force that was almost physically painful. He had no intention of just robbing me of my money. The vile depravity writhing in his consciousness filled me with mind-numbing and crippling terror. This could not happen to me again!  
  
Suddenly, in my mind, I was once again the defenceless girl in The Centre with no-one to hear my screams as sordid, vicious horrors were inflicted upon my young body. This was not happening again - it couldn't! But I could do nothing - my voice would not work and my abilities failed me.  
  
My silent screams echoed soundlessly throughout the vast complex and as the man shoved me violently to the ground tearing at my clothes, my head hit the concrete so hard that I saw stars. I felt Angelo's response to my distress, soft but firm, 'Hold on. They come.' Then the welcoming blackness claimed me and I knew no more.  
  
  
  
I desperately crave feedback! Please let me know what you think of my fic - min_coates@hotmail.com 


	5. Shocking Revelations

Chapter Five: Shocking Revelations  
  
It was only much later that I discovered what exactly had happened next. I was able to piece together the events from what Sydney, Miss Parker and Broots told me, as well as from their thoughts, impressions and emotions.  
  
Whilst I had been heading for my car, the three - plus Sam - had been with Angelo, looking through the boxes filled with what Jarod had left behind. On sensing my danger, Angelo had become extremely distressed and had grabbed Miss Parker saying urgently, "Melinda in carpark. No, don't hurt her! Don't let them hurt her again!"  
  
"What the hell?" said Miss Parker in shock, and with nothing else said the four of them, Parker, Broots, Sydney and Sam, bolted down to the carpark.  
  
Luck was on my side and my assailant, realising I had lost consciousness, had taken his time enjoying the anticipation of the moment. My heroes arrived just in time to stop him indulging in his sick urges. As the attacker moved his bulk on to my inert form, Broots - with a snarl of rage, no less - tackled him violently away from me. It took both Miss Parker and Sam all their strength, as well as Sydney's calming words, to pull Broots off the man, whom Broots was beating senseless.  
  
"Take care of this bastard, Sam." Miss Parker spat in fury. Sam nodded curtly and roughly dragged the man off to be dealt with - The Centre way.  
  
"Well done, Broots." Miss Parker patted his shoulder softly as he bent down to see if I was alright, his distress clearly written across his face.  
  
"Syd. Is she okay? Did he...?"  
  
"No, Broots. We got here just in time." Sydney reassured him. "But we need to get her inside right now."  
  
They carried me back into The Centre and placed me on the lounge that adorned one of the walls in our office.  
  
Sydney examined me and Miss Parker asked quietly, "Angelo said, 'Don't hurt her again.' What does that mean, Syd?"  
  
Sydney thought for a moment. "Well, Angelo was reacting to her emotions so I believe it means possibly that she was raped sometime in the past."  
  
"Oh, god." said Broots "How awful... especially to be attacked again."  
  
"I hope they castrate the bastard." was Miss Parker's vehement remark.  
  
"Look, she's coming round." said Sydney. "Melinda, it's alright, you're safe now."  
  
Safe. What would he know about safe. I would never be safe - never be free.  
  
I shook my head groggily and winced as pain lanced through my skull. I half sat up clutching at my head and as Sydney tried to get me to lie back down, he suddenly started back in shock.  
  
Then I became aware that at some stage my hair had fallen loose and was now cascading down my back and shoulders in a fiery wave of curls. I had also lost my glasses somewhere along the way. With growing horror, I saw myself through Sydney's eyes and saw that image correspond in his mind with me as a child. He recognised me. He knew who I had once been.  
  
"My god." He said simply.  
  
"No." I wailed over and over. "No!"  
  
"What is it, Syd? What's going on?" demanded Miss Parker.  
  
Sydney took a long drawn out breath. "I know her."  
  
"Of course you know her!" snapped Miss Parker.  
  
"No," continued Sydney. "I knew Melinda when she was a child."  
  
"What?" said Broots and Miss Parker simultaneously.  
  
I continued to moan. "No. No. No." I couldn't breathe, my chest felt tight, my heart was pounding and my head was spinning. "No. No. No."  
  
"She was at The Centre." He finished despite my protests.  
  
"What are you saying? Are you telling us that she's a Pretender?" Miss Parker asked in disbelief whilst Broots stood there in shocked silence.  
  
To my frazzled mind it seemed as though it was Catherine standing there betraying me, labelling me that hated and feared word, Pretender - my nightmares come true. "No, Catherine!" I shrieked, totally panic-stricken, "Please, tell them I'm not a Pretender! You know I'm not!"  
  
I very nearly fell off the lounge in my panicked state but Sydney caught me and held me as I flailed around in terror.  
  
"Parker." Sydney said urgentlly. "Say she's not!"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Tell her she's not a Pretender. We have to calm her down."  
  
Miss Parker said weakly. "You're not a Pretender. Of course, you're not."  
  
It didn't really help me because the realisation came upon me that I had just revealed that I had once known Catherine and I sobbed in near hysteria.  
  
"Broots. Get my medical bag." Sydney ordered. Broots ran.  
  
When he returned with the bag, Sydney swiftly removed a syringe and a vial of liquid. "It's a mild sedative." He said by way of explanation. "You're in shock. Your blood pressure is way too high."  
  
This made things worse, however, as one of my tormentor's favourite games when I had been a prisoner within The Centre had been to dose me up until I couldn't move and then commit unspeakable acts upon me.  
  
As Sydney approached me with loaded syringe, I shrieked and flung both hands out in front of me. Sydney was knocked down by the force of my will.  
  
Sydney and I stared at each other. His amazement turned to fascination and he smiled slowly from his position on the floor. "You know, I always thought there was something more to you than The Centre was able to discover, Millie."  
  
Millie. I laughed harshly, "There is no more Millie." I enjoyed their reaction at the similarity to Angelo's comments about his former self, Timmy. I turned toward Miss Parker. Her gun was drawn and pointed towards me. Broots was standing behind her looking frightened.  
  
Bitterness welled up inside me. "I guess dinner is off then." I gasped. Why couldn't I breathe properly? My chest was hurting badly and everything was looking hazy.  
  
"Don't move! Don't even think of trying anything." Those walls around Miss Parker were up again and her gun was still unflinchingly levelled in my direction.  
  
"What, like this?" I stared her in the eyes as I slowly raised my arms and every piece of furniture in the room - except my lounge - rose with stately precision a good metre and hovered for a moment before returning to their original position on the floor when I lowered my arms again.  
  
Silence dominated the room. "What?" I demanded wildly and breathlessly. "No cute names for me? Like Labrat? Cousin It? Girl Wonder?" I taunted her with the names I knew she used to refer to Jarod and Angelo. I was suddenly angry. Angry at her for turning on me so easily, and even angry with Catherine for dying and leaving me to the mercy of my depraved torturers. Most of all, however, I was angry with myself. I had let my guard down - I had not been strong enough - and now I had lost everything.  
  
With a simple flick of my hand, the gun was suddenly in my possession and now pointed in their direction. My vision wavered but my hand remained steady. My breathing was in short harsh gulps.  
  
"Don't even think about it, Parker." I rasped as I realised that she was about to make a move. "I can read your thoughts too." I was tired of hiding.  
  
She gasped and stepped back but her eyes were livid.  
  
"Melinda," Sydney said in his best psychiatrist voice. "Just stay calm. No- one is going to hurt you. I do, however, need to give you this injection."  
  
I realised he was very worried. Was I going to die? My whole body felt weak as I tried to force air into my lungs. He stepped forward with the syringe again. I indicated the gun I held. "Don't come any closer, Sydney. I'd rather die than be locked up here again."  
  
"That's not my intention. I just want to help you." He replied soothingly.  
  
"Catherine." Past and present seemed to merge in my mind as I gazed at the stunned figure of Miss Parker. "Catherine. Why did you leave me? How could you let them do those things to me?" I sobbed brokenly. "Please don't let them hurt me again."  
  
"No-one is going to hurt you." Miss Parker replied firmly. "But you have to let Sydney give you the sedative."  
  
"You're not Catherine!" I suddenly screamed at her and she stepped back warily. "I won't believe you!"  
  
"Then believe me, Melinda." said a soft, gentle voice. It was Broots. I felt almost hypnotised by the tenderness and sympathy that I saw in his eyes. "You can read my mind? You can tell what I'm feeling?" He asked.  
  
I nodded shakily.  
  
"Then you know that, although frankly what you can do terrifies me, I still care about you."  
  
I nodded again in surprise. He was telling the truth.  
  
"And you also know," he continued, "that no matter what, I will not let anything bad happen to you." Broots moved closer to me very slowly and carefully. Fear emanated from him in waves, but so did his rock hard resolve. He sat down on the lounge near me and held out his arms. I clung to him and wept with relief as I allowed him to take the gun from me. He kept it pointed towards the others.  
  
On the edge of my consiousness, I heard Miss Parker's wondering thought, "When did he grow that backbone?"  
  
Broots' gentle voice went on, "Now," he directed. "Concentrate on Sydney. Does he intend you any harm by giving you a sedative that will make you feel better?"  
  
I shook my head. "No, but its not that..."  
  
Sydney said softly, "I know. I remember what was done to you but I swear this will just relax your muscles, help you breathe easier, slow your heartrate and so on. You'll still be awake and in control. And," he added with a smile. "In any case, Broots will protect you."  
  
I knew this was true. The arm around me was warm and strong. I didn't feel safe exactly but something... close to it. "Okay. Do it." I whispered fearfully before burying my face in Broots' chest. His arm tightened around me reassuringly as Sydney's gentle hands pushed up my sleeve to administer the sedative. I whimpered as the needle pierced my skin, too scared to scream.  
  
Almost immediately I felt my body relax, I could breathe more freely and my pounding heart calmed. I also started to feel sleepy and panic rose within me but I could still move my limbs and Broots was still holding me close - and holding the gun trained on the other two.  
  
"See, everything is okay." He said softly. "Is it alright if I give Miss Parker's gun back to her?"  
  
I nodded against his chest. I did not need to be afraid of her. Her annoyance as she snatched back her gun was only half-hearted and the evident compassion she felt for me filled me with a warm feeling - not unlike hope.  
  
Now I was calm, Miss Parker and Sydney pulled chairs over near to where I lay on the lounge with Broots' lap as a pillow, his hands softly stroking my hair back from my face.  
  
"This is fascinating." Sydney enthused. "You're a telepath, an empath and you use telekinesis - what else?"  
  
Each word - each label - stung as though he had slapped me. I tried not to let it bother me but I couldn't help it. Years of hiding my powers had conditioned me to fear those terms as much as being labelled Pretender.  
  
"Sorry." Sydney apologised as he saw me stiffen. "I don't mean to pry."  
  
"You're a shrink," I replied wryly, "Of course you meant to pry. It's just that these things are not easy for me to talk about. I've never really talked about my abilities - not even with Catherine, though she knew more than anyone."  
  
Miss Parker said. "You knew my mother."  
  
I nodded, feeling tears well up. "She was the most wonderful person that ever lived. When she died there was no-one left who gave a damn about me - and no-one left to protect me." My voice shook. "I couldn't save her. I tried, I really did, I'm so sorry..." I trailed off.  
  
She stared at me intently. "Do you know who killed my mother?" She demanded.  
  
I began to cry as the awful memories of that fateful day surfaced.  
  
"Well, do you?" She pressed on, relentlessly.  
  
"Parker," Sydney warned firmly. "Leave her be until she's feeling stronger, alright?"  
  
Thankfully, she agreed, if reluctantly.  
  
Broots' gentle fingers continued stroking my hair as the tears ran down my cheeks. The truth was I didn't know who had murdered Catherine - I had only witnessed the event through her eyes and thoughts. I don't even know if she knew her killer or if she even saw him. Her thoughts - so clear to me as I had stretched out with my powers in a vain attempt to save her - were only on the gun, the certainty that she was going to die and her utter despair when she realised she would now never escape with her beloved daughter to Europe. All the happiness she had dreamed for them both was never to be. And all the things she wanted to tell her little girl would be lost, forever unsaid.  
  
But those words and the love were not lost. I held them inside me. I would never forget the moment of her death when the last soundless cry of her mind, of her heart, swept through me like a powerful wind. I tried to take hold of her spirit but she was gone. The bravest, most compassionate woman I have ever known was gone - and so was her protection and my hope of salvation. It was when her young daughter, Miss Parker's, grief and horror then washed over my already raw senses that I had started screaming. The Centre's doctors had had to sedate me.  
  
So Catherine's last moment was with me and perhaps one day I would be able to share it with her daughter whom she had loved more than anything else in the whole world. But I would not share it until we were both ready.  
  
There were other things that I felt ready to share - I needed to share. No more secrets, no more hiding. Trust can kill you... Or set you free. Either way I didn't care. These three people would finally know who I really was. They would know me.  
  
  
  
I desperately crave feedback! Please let me know what you think of my fic - imaginarygoddess@hotmail.com 


	6. Exploring The Past

AN: I just wrote a new Stargate fic and whilst looking through my account discovered that I'd never posted more chapters of this story which I wrote years ago. There were twelve altogether and I may get around to writing more if people want it enough. It's funny how my writing style has changed a bit since I wrote this. LOL.

* * *

I told them about my fifteen years in The Centre, how those of us who were not 'special' enough were not kept as isolated and we were allowed to socialise with each other. That's how I had met Timmy. And how he had begged me to use my powers to mask his own abilities because he was so sure they would send him home if they decided he wasn't 'special'. I did not want to but he pleaded with me until I finally agreed - he was so scared and he wanted to go home more than anything.

"Wait a minute." interrupted Sydney, sounding incredulous. "Are you telling me that Timmy - Angelo - had empathic talents _before_ Raines' experiment?"

I nodded, full of sorrow, "I'm to blame for what Raines did to him. It's all my fault." I gave way to anguished sobbing as the guilt I had held inside broke free.

"How can it be your fault?" asked Broots, feeling confused.

Sydney understood. "Because Raines would not have needed to perform the experiment if he was aware that Timmy already had empathic abilities." He put his hand on my shoulder and looked me in the eyes. "It was not your fault, Melinda. You were a child and you didn't know what would happen as a result of you blocking his gifts."

Broots pulled me into his arms and the others drew closer. Their compassion and understanding lifted my spirit and helped decrease the weight of guilt that I felt bearing down upon me. My sobbing lessened in intensity.

They had so many questions and in so many ways I did not feel ready to answer them - even the person I had shared the last decade with, my lovely computer nerd, did not know half of what I was telling them. But it had to be done and now was as good a time as any.

However, a realisation suddenly struck Miss Parker. "Then it was all a lie! All of it! None of it was real." Her feelings of betrayal - an emotion she was very familiar with - were painful to me.

"What do you mean?" asked Broots.

Miss Parker's attention remained on me, those cool grey eyes now burning with anger. "You read my mind. You analysed my emotions and you used that to get close to me!"

I couldn't lie to her. "I became who you wanted me to be. However, in addition I also staved off your nicotine cravings, calmed your ulcer and rescued you from tense situations whenever your stress levels got too high. You liked me because I made you feel better."

"I _trusted_ you!" she spat out the word, her hurt spilling over the walls.

"Trust can kill you." was my automatic response. Her eyes widened as she recognised her mother's saying.

"Or it can set you free." Broots finished off the phrase. "Trust us now as we trusted you. No more secrets. I don't want to be afraid of you - I want to understand." He paused and then asked sadly. "Was us - our friendship - ever real?"

"Oh, Broots." I sighed. "It was all real. Although I did use my powers to aid me along the way, I was never pretending" I nearly choked on the unintentional use of the word, "with any of you. You've got to believe me."

Sydney and Broots nodded, apparently satisfied. Miss Parker was reluctant - but she wanted to believe me and she still cared about me.

I went on, "I didn't mean to get so involved with you guys. It just happened on its own."

Sydney sighed and took my hand. "You might not believe this but I often wondered about you over the years, wondered what had become of you."

I laughed bitterly. "Sure, like you were worried about me when you and Raines released me - a sexually abused teenager with little to no knowledge of the outside world with a couple of grand in my pocket, the clothes on my back and nowhere to go."

Miss Parker and Broots were shocked. I turned to them. "What? You don't think a child could get molested in a place like The Centre?" They felt uncomfortable. "Or is it that Raines was involved in my release that shocks you most?"

"Raines?" Miss Parker was disbelieving.

Sydney answered. "It was Raines who discovered Melinda after the final worst attack. She had lost a lot of blood and it took us hours to save her life. Afterwards, we spoke to your father about the situation. He agreed that for her safety she should be released to get her as far away as possible from those who had developed a sick obsession with abusing her. Raines was quite convincing in his arguments for her release."

"I reminded him of his daughter." I explained. Raines' daughter had been kidnapped and murdered many years before and because there was something about me that made him think of his daughter he could not bear me to suffer any more.

"What did you when The Centre let you go?" asked Miss Parker.

There was so much left to tell. Carefully, I sat up but remained leaning against Broots for support and comfort. He held my hand. "The Centre never lets you go." I whispered. "Sure, they weren't searching for me like you're searching for Jarod - but I could never be certain. I was always looking over my shoulder expecting a sweeper team to be coming for me. The moment they set me free I got on a bus and got as far away as I could. A lady at the bus station directed me to a shelter for teenage runaways and I stayed there for a few days whilst I got my bearings.

"The culture shock was the worst. There were so many new things out there and so many people who weren't as closed off emotionally as those within The Centre. I just lay on my bed trying to filter out all the noise in my mind. My head ached for days."

"That's understandable." remarked Sydney. "Your senses weren't used to accepting that much information."

"Exactly." I nodded. "Anyway, eventually I found out from the people who ran the shelter that what I really needed to do was get a job. They showed me how to look up the ads in the newspapers and things like that. Whilst looking through the ads, it suddenly occurred to me that I could use my abilities to help me in the outside world. Instead of my powers being detrimental to my chances of survival as they had been at The Centre, suddenly they were useful and in some cases absolutely necessary.

"At job interviews, I gained impressions of what my potential employers were like. Every one terrified me. I couldn't face the idea of working for a big company as it seemed too much like The Centre and smaller business frightened me with the closeness of their workers. I had too many secrets and too many fears."

"That must have been horrible." said Broots with concern. "What did you do then?"

"Eventually, after almost giving up hope, I attended an interview with a guy who ran his own computer business from home. His business was very successful but he was a loner and had mild agrophobia so he didn't go out much - and he preferred it that way. He had decided that he really needed an assistant to help him organise his work but was concerned about letting someone into his private sanctuary. As soon as I shook his hand, I instantly felt that this was where I wanted to be. He had a good heart and something about him made me feel safe.

"After a bit of persuasion he agreed to give me a week's trial. It was simple to become who he wanted me to be and our working relationship was pleasant and comfortable. He even surfed the net to find me a really good apartment nearby. The next five years went by very quickly as we both immersed ourselves completely in running his company and I could almost forget my past."

"And what happened to change things?" asked Sydney gently.

I closed my eyes, remembering. "Using the internet and other resources, I had been keeping an eye on other children who had been released from The Centre, and in particular those who had been rescued by Catherine before she died. I didn't dare contact them but I knew where they were. Then all of a sudden they started dying. All apparently of natural causes or accidents but I knew The Centre was involved. I was completely terrified.

"Up till then, my lovely employer had always believed - and I had let him - that I had run away from home after a fight with my parents or something. He knew that something haunted me but never pushed me to tell him about it. However, when he discovered me crying hysterically in front of my computer he wouldn't stop until I told him what was wrong. I told him about being raised by an organisation for gifted children. I hinted at the nefarious nature of the organisation and how children I had known there were now dead.

"He was horrified at the awful things that had happened to me. He told me that I was the most important person in his life and he would do anything to help. His house became my refuge, my hideaway. I moved in and pretty much didn't ever go outside. It was like being a prisoner again but this time I was a prisoner of my own fear. However, I was fairly content for a time. I now shared my friend's life as well as his work. He would have liked me to have shared his bed also but I couldn't after what had been done to me and he never pushed."

I paused to take a deep shuddering breath. Broots squeezed my hand and I looked at him gratefully. This was really difficult for me. I was more used to keeping secrets than speaking openly.

"What made you decide to return to The Centre?" Miss Parker asked.

"I just couldn't take it anymore. The hiding away, existing but not really living. I had to come back to reclaim my life. I had to _do_ something. Perhaps find out who killed Catherine and make them pay." Miss Parker looked at me in surprise - she knew that feeling. "I owe her. And I owe... someone else."

"Someone else?" inquired Miss Parker raising her eyebrows, "Who?"

"It is Jarod, isn't it?" replied Sydney with interest.

I took a deep shuddering breath. "Yes." I said softly. They were all silently watching me, waiting to hear more. "He saved me. I would have gone insane if not for him - perhaps even died."

"How is that possible?" Sydney looked perplexed. "As far as I know, you and Jarod never met. Unless, of course, you got in touch with him more recently outside The Centre."

I shook my head. "Jarod does not even know I exist. We have never set eyes on one another."

"Then how...?" Broots' confusion echoed everyone's.

"This is hard for me..." I whispered.

"Take your time." Sydney reassured in a soothing voice. "You're doing really well."

"That day - the day that Timmy became Angelo..."

"And the day my mom died." Miss Parker murmured.

"...The air was filled with so much evil. I could feel it as though the air was polluted by it. Timmy came to me and asked me to inhibit more of his abilities because they hadn't given up and sent him home yet. It felt wrong somehow, dangerous even, but he was adamant so eventually I gave in.

"Raines' sweeper came to get Timmy and I kept my mind focussed on him to make sure he was alright and because of the energy it took to inhibit his powers as much as I was."

"So you were with him, in a way, when they fried his brain." Miss Parker said.

I grimaced at her choice of words but nodded. "I felt what he felt. He was in so much pain so I lifted his spirit away from his body to ease his suffering until it was all over. When it was time to return, he panicked and in the ensuing struggle I managed to replace his spirit into the prison Raines had made of his body but my own spirit was separated from my body. I was floating adrift, lost and terrified.

"I would have been like that forever, unable to find my way back if it wasn't for this amazingly bright light that seemed to call to me. I followed it - at first I thought I must be dead - but I realised as I got closer that the glow was coming from another soul. A beautiful soul. Being near it made me feel safe. It was like I was cocooned in its overwhelming warmth and power."

"And this was Jarod's soul?" Sydney breathed, completely fascinated.

"Yes. That's all I knew about him - his name and that he was a Pretender. Instead of just drifting aimlessly, Jarod was my anchor and I was able to eventually reconnect with my body."

"Jarod was completely unaware of this occurrence?" asked Sydney.

"That's right."

"Incredible."

"After that, whenever things got too terrible to bear I would leave my body and travel to find comfort in the light of Jarod's spirit again. In particular, whenever they..." my voice cracked. "..._did_ things to me."

"Did you see what he was doing? Were you watching him?" Miss Parker wanted to know.

"No." I replied. "I was only aware occasionally of what he was feeling. He was mostly sad and lonely just like me. In fact, I didn't even know what he looked like at all until Sydney showed me a photo this afternoon."

I had been aware as I spoke about Jarod of a strange feeling coming from Broots. It was kind of like sadness tempered by acceptance and little spikes of... envy? No, that was silly - what would Broots have to be envious about?

"During the years I was out of The Centre, I thought about Jarod all the time - whether he was okay. I felt that I should tell him about what I knew The Centre was doing with his work but I was so afraid and I just couldn't. By the time I felt able to come back, ten years had passed and I discovered from you that he escaped two years ago." I buried my face in my hands. "I should have come back sooner - perhaps I could have saved him some of his pain."

Sydney pulled my hands away from my face very gently and made me look at him. "You carry a lot of unfounded guilt inside you. Catherine, Angelo, Jarod - none of them are your responsibility. You did what you could but what happened to them is _not_ your fault."

"It sure feels like it." I whispered, tears falling again

I felt horrible. My world was falling apart - I was falling apart - where was my control? It didn't help that I knew I must look a total mess with my hair in disarray, my clothes torn in places and my face ravaged by tears. I closed my eyes and concentrated on Broots. I wanted to know if he could possibly still think I was beautiful now he knew the truth and especially in my current sad condition. His perception of my appearance startled me. I looked more beautiful than I ever had before! How could that be? How very strange - but nice.

Miss Parker looked at me. She began awkwardly. "About dinner tonight..."

I smiled sadly. "I understand... you need some time to adjust to everything."

She sighed with relief - she had discovered one of the benefits of my being able to read minds and emotions. "How about a raincheck for say next week sometime?"

"Sure." I wasn't going to hold my breath though - I could tell that she was not entirely certain she would extend the invitation again. I felt very sad and alone. Things were never going to be the same again.

"I'll call Thomas and tell him about our change of plans." She gazed at me a moment, knowing she wanted to say something but not knowing how or what. I wanted her to say something too - something that would let me know that it was alright between us - but the fact that she wanted to would have to be enough. She turned to go. "So, I'll see everyone on Monday. Good night."

"Good night." We replied.

Broots reluctantly moved away from me. "I should go find out what Debbie's plans for tonight are. She was thinking about staying overnight at a friend's place but I have to check so I know whether I have to pick her up or whatever." He looked at me. "Don't go anywhere, I'll be right back, okay?"

I smiled. "I'll be right here." Broots grinned and hurried off to phone his daughter.

Sydney leaned in towards me, his eyes bright. "Melinda. Would you perhaps consider working with me? I mean, totally unrelated to The Centre, of course. Our work would be completely confidential. We could explore and develop your powers."

I stared at him for a long time. He began to worry that he had said the wrong thing, or said it the wrong way, or even that he should have waited for a better time to bring up the subject.

He started to speak, to take it back quickly but I stopped him. "Sydney." I breathed, my voice filled with the emotions that I felt brimming to the surface. "Do you have any idea how long I have waited to hear you say that? How many years?"

Sydney was quite taken aback.

"You had no idea, did you?" I laughed sadly. "All those children, all those years."

"What are you talking about?" He asked.

"Each and every one of those children that I knew whilst I was here - all they could hope for was to be assigned to you. With you, they would still have been prisoners but they would have been taken care of and encouraged to develop their abilities."

Sydney remained silent, pondering this.

I continued. "I, like all the other children, had heard of Jarod, of how great a Pretender he was. In some ways, I wanted to be like him. I wanted to be assigned to you because I was pretty sure you would have prevented the horrific things they did to me. But I couldn't reach out to you. I couldn't take the risk of others finding out what I could do. I could only dream."

Sydney looked very sad. "If only I had known... If only I hadn't been so blind all those years."

"Sydney," I said softly. "I would be honoured to work with you now."

He smiled delightedly. My abilities completely fascinated him and he couldn't wait to learn more about them and - more importantly, from my point of view - to help me to develop them.

I continued. "On one condition, however. We have to be exceedingly careful that my abilities and my past with The Centre are _never _discovered. Not just for my sake."

Sydney's brow furrowed. "What do you mean by that?"

I hesitated. Did I really want to share this information with him? Yet another secret? No, I suppose he should know. "The _things_ they did to me... not all of it was just malicious sexual abuse. The project they had me involved in was to do with studying the female reproductive system, fertility, stuff like that. I'm not going to tell you what was done to me - unless maybe we start some heavy duty counselling. The thing I have to tell you is that just before I was released from The Centre they had planned to..." I broke off.

"Planned to do what?" Sydney prompted gently.

"Oh god, Sydney, they planned to impregnate me with Jarod's child. I had the right genetic makeup - probably due to the powers they didn't even know I had - and they wanted to recreate Jarod's Pretender abilities."

He stared at me in horror.

"I couldn't let them do it, Sydney! Can you imagine? A child with Jarod's Pretender abilities as well as my own powers? There would be no way that such a child - raised by The Centre and, in particular, isolated from birth - would know it should hide its powers like I did."

"I would never have allowed that to happen." Sydney insisted.

"Do you really think you would have known about it?" I argued. "And I am the one who would never have allowed it to happen. To have them create a child - my child - and then use it, just like they used Jarod. I would have killed myself first."

Sydney just stared at me for a moment, unsure of what to say. What I had told him had shaken him significantly. Poor Sydney, he had truly been blind all those years as to how The Centre's once benevolent goals had slowly but surely taken a turn towards evil.

He said quietly, "I swear to you that I will do everything within my power to keep you safe. However, I still want to work with you - I think you'll agree that it would be of great benefit to you and your future if you learn to develop your abilities - and learn to better cope with traumatic situations."

When I didn't answer, he continued. "You've managed to survive reasonably well over the years but here back in The Centre, I think you need help to deal with things. Do you agree?"

I couldn't argue with that. I nodded shyly. A slow smile spread itself across my face. Things might be alright after all. Broots was still my friend and had not turned away from me as I had feared. Miss Parker might be having trouble dealing with the revelations of today but I had to believe we could work through that together. Most exciting of all, I was to work on my powers with Sydney! A dream come true.

Most of all, I realised, that although I might find the thought of trusting anyone horrific - _Trust can kill you!_ - the truth I couldn't deny was that I was now in a position where I was forced to trust these three people. It was either that or go back to my lovely computer nerd and never again leave his home - if indeed I would still be safe there anymore.

No, I had to stay - for Catherine, for Jarod, for Angelo, for Miss Parker - and for those children with whom I had spent my hellish childhood, those children who were now dead. And for myself. I had to remain here, remain on the path I had set for myself. Walking this path might bring my salvation but there was an equal possibility that it would destroy me. There was no choice. I had to take the chance.

* * *

If you want to read the other chapters I have already written you need to review! I'm needy. Plus, the more encouragement I get the more likely it is that I will be able to get inspired to write more after all this time:) 


	7. Red Notebooks

"There is something that I've been wondering," mused Sydney, "Your appearance has differed slightly since I realised who you are - and I don't think it's just my perception which has been altered. I don't believe it was entirely the glasses and having your curls tucked away that kept me from recognising you."

"Ah, the power of suggestion." I smirked and watched in amusement as Sydney saw my eyes change from green to brown and then back to their natural green again.

"Incredible!"

"But wait, there's more..." I joked.

Again, Sydney gaped as he witnessed my features change shape and size ever so slightly until I still looked like me - but not quite.

"So are you affecting your actual physical appearance or just my perception of it?" asked Sydney, fascinated.

"Your perception - oh, and that of anyone else who looks at me. It doesn't really take much effort - as long as I stay fairly close to the truth." I answered, then thought for a moment. "I've never tried to change myself physically - I might be able to do that too, who knows?"

"Who knows, indeed. Perhaps we will discover all sorts of things you've never even thought of trying." He remarked, smiling.

I smiled back and we discussed our plans for next week. Though the weekend still loomed ominously lonely before me, especially now Miss Parker's dinner was off, thoughts of beginning my training with Sydney on Monday filled me with hope and excitement.

Sydney and I were still talking animatedly when Broots returned from calling his daughter, Debbie. A thought occurred to me, and my feelings of hopefulness faded a little. I didn't dare ask Broots if our date for Saturday night was still on.

Broots was pleased that I was smiling again. "You look really pretty with your hair loose like that." He remarked shyly. Then confusion clouded his features. "Hold on a minute. Weren't your eyes brown before?"

Sydney and I looked at each other and grinned.

"Which colour do you prefer?" I asked Broots. He hesitated and I couldn't help but laugh. "Don't worry, there is no wrong answer, Broots."

He grinned sheepishly. "Well, in that case, I think that green seems to suit you best."

"Okay, green it is." I agreed and then added. "For you guys, that is. Brown for everyone else."

"I feel special now." joked Broots.

_You are special._ I projected the phrase towards his mind and wondered if he would be able to hear it. I had never openly spoken to someone with my mind before - except Angelo of course - so I didn't know if it would work on someone without telepathic or empathic abilities.

He gaped at me in surprise. "Did you just...?" When I nodded, he turned excitedly to Sydney. "Sydney, wow! I just heard Melinda's voice in my head! That is so cool."

Sydney was extremely impressed and I could practically hear the thoughts whizzing through his head about what we could work on next week.

It was time for him to head home, however, so he made a move to leave. "I look forward to seeing you early Monday morning, Mill...Melinda. You should go home and get some rest."

I nodded but was suddenly daunted by the prospect of being alone. My expression must have given away my feelings and caused him to pause.

"Will you be alright?" He asked with concern.

"Sure." I said, with false brightness. "No problem."

Sydney and Broots exchanged looks. They didn't believe me for a second.

Broots spoke up. "Hey, would you like to have dinner at my place? You know, since Miss Parker cancelled hers." He rambled on nervously. "Debbie will be there for dinner but then she's going to a friend's place. I'm sure there's something good on TV that we could watch or something."

I looked at him gratefully. "Thanks, Broots. That'd be great. I really couldn't face going home right now." _Home._ No such place existed for me. "Hold on, didn't you say that Debbie was staying over a friend's place on Saturday night?"

"That's right." replied Broots.

"And you just said that she was staying at a friend's place tonight as well."

"Yep. She's staying at Fiona's place tonight and then Sarah's tomorrow." He grinned with pride. "She's got heaps of friends - she's not a geek like her old man."

I smiled. "You're not a geek, Broots."

Just then, Sydney's mobile phone rang. "This is Sydney." He spoke into it as he moved slightly away from us for privacy. After he had finished his call, he turned to me.

"That was Miss Parker. Sam contacted her to inform her that the man who attacked you was a Centre Sweeper."

I grimaced. I really didn't want to think about what had happened in the carpark and not just because it was the catalyst for all the revelations that had followed. "Well, Syd, it hardly surprises _me_ that The Centre would be employing people who are, let us just say, morally impaired."

"I was wondering how he would have got past all the security if he was just some guy off the street. That explains it alright." said Broots.

"Well, I think it's time we all left this place." Sydney said.

I couldn't help but be struck by that comment. Yes, perhaps it was time we all left The Centre and tried to find real lives, away from all the lies and pain. But, of course, he was referring to going home for the evening.

Sydney walked to his office and emerged with his briefcase and some files. "Goodnight, Broots. Goodnight, Melinda."

He was almost to the door when I called out to him, unable to stop myself. "Sydney?"

He turned back and looked at me. "Yes?"

I hesitated, and then in a very small voice asked, "Do you think Jarod would have cared about what happened to me when I was at The Centre?"

Sydney's eyes softened. "I think the answer to that question is obvious, don't you?"

I nodded my head slowly, my eyes down. "He would care because it was The Centre that was involved."

"That would be a factor certainly, but that is not what I meant." He turned to Broots. "Broots, get a few of Jarod's notebooks for Melinda to look at over the weekend."

Broots went white. "But Miss Parker..."

Sydney said firmly. "I'll deal with Miss Parker if she objects."

Broots hurried to a filing cabinet - one that was always kept locked - and quickly punched in a code to release the drawer. He withdrew about five rather ordinary looking red-coloured notebooks and brought them over to Sydney. Sydney flipped through them quickly - they appeared to be filled with newspaper cuttings.

Sydney turned to me. "Take these with you and read through them. I think you will soon understand Jarod's feelings on the subject of people who have been mistreated by _anyone_, not just The Centre." He smiled at me kindly. "We'll talk more about this next week, and in the meantime, I'm sure Broots will tell you about his experiences with Jarod."

Broots nodded. "Sure, no problem."

I smiled, feeling better and reached to take the books from Sydney. As he placed them in my hands, it was as though a jolt of electricity ran through my body. I just caught myself as I felt my knees begin to give way. Before I could do anything else, pictures started forming in my mind.

_"I was taken from my family." The man from the picture Sydney had shown me says in a voice filled with infinite sorrow. Jarod. "My name is Jarod... Green, Clarke, Smith, Doyle, Wright..." The surnames go on and on. And so do the different occupations. "I can become anyone I want to be but I don't know who _I_ am." Then I see flashes of victims being assisted - and of villains being brought to justice. A man in a long dark coat, walking away down a long dark street. He turns and looks back - it is Jarod and he is smiling, but his eyes are haunted and sad. Another good deed done, another goodbye. Another day on the run._

I shook myself and practically threw the books at Broots. He juggled them for a moment but managed not to drop any. "Ah, Syd." I laughed shakily. "I don't think I'll need to actually _read_ these - but I just can't handle it right now. Could you carry them for me please, Broots?"

"What happened?" asked Sydney. They were both looking at me strangely and were filled with concern.

I brought my hands up to my cheeks and was surprised to find that they were wet. I wouldn't have believed I could cry any more that day. "Oh, you know," I replied lightly. "Just a summary of what is contained in these books in picture format."

"Amazing." Sydney said. "However, I think that you should wait a while before exposing yourself to them again. You've already been through enough for one day."

"I agree." Broots said firmly. "Are you ready to go?"

"Sure" I replied.

We all walked to the carpark together. As we approached, I felt panic rising within me.

"Just take deep breaths and try to relax." advised Sydney.

Broots took my hand and squeezed it reassuringly. "We'll be out of here before you know it."

Broots and I said goodbye to Sydney and got into Broots' car, deciding to leave my car at The Centre for the time being. The silence between us felt so strange. Before all this, even though we hadn't really socialised outside of work, Broots and I had never had a problem finding something to say to each other. I could sense that he felt awkward now that neither Sydney nor Miss Parker were there - and now that I was composed and no longer needing him to cling to, he felt unsure of what to say or do.

"I kinda feel like you're a whole new person - someone I'm just meeting for the first time." Broots said after we had been driving for a while.

"I'm still the same." I replied quietly. "With you I was always pretty much being myself. There were just things about me that you didn't know."

"I know. It's a lot to take in all at once. I guess it's going me a bit of time to get used to the whole idea of you being able to read my mind. It's not something you can take lightly, you know?"

I nodded. "You don't really have to worry about that too much. I'm not, like, monitoring your thoughts or anything. I can just hear things that you think 'loudly'."

He laughed delightedly. "I bet you sometimes feel like telling people, 'Shut up, you're thinking too loudly and I can't concentrate!'."

I laughed too. "Yeah, sometimes. The thing is, that if, for example, I really annoyed you and you thought 'stupid bitch' or something, it wouldn't really upset me because I can tell the feeling behind it is only temporary and not real. Does that make any sense?"

"I guess." He still sounded unsure. "I don't know if I could handle it if I knew what people were thinking about me."

"Well, you haven't lived like it all your life. It's completely natural to me. If someone suddenly developed powers like mine then I guess they would find it difficult not to be sensitive to things like that."

"That makes sense." We stopped at a traffic light and Broots turned to look at me intently. "I really want our friendship to work. That means I need to know things about who you are and about your powers so I won't get paranoid or anything. Can we be honest with each other and talk about things like this?" He rambled on. "I know, it will be frustrating having to reassure me, when your whole life nobody knew and you've never had to explain..."

"It's okay, Broots." I took his hand. "It's kind of nice being totally myself with someone. Particularly someone who knows the truth about me and doesn't run away shrieking."

He grinned. "Is that what you really expected would happen?"

I shrugged. "Maybe. Either that or be dragged into a SimLab, be forced to take part in horrible experiments and never again see the light of day."

The light turned green and he drove on. He had fallen silent again at my last words. I didn't mean to make him feel bad. He was a good guy who happened to be working for the bad guys - and that didn't mean he was on their side. In lots of ways, the three of them - Broots, Sydney and Miss Parker - did seem to be the bad guys. After all, they were trying to return Jarod to the hell he had escaped from - but at the same time they often protected him where possible from harm and their search for truth was positive. There were many conflicting pieces of information - motives and actions, thoughts and words did not agree. The whole situation was a murky quagmire than even someone with my abilities found difficult to decipher completely. But then, murkiness and contradiction were hardly unusual words to associate with things involving The Centre.

Eventually, Broots pulled into a driveway and announced. "Here we are."

We wandered into his house together. Inside it was spacious and comfortable with lots of windows and wooden surfaces. Broots' home was as lovely, lived in and welcoming as he was. In the kitchen, a young girl was beginning to prepare dinner. This was Debbie, Broots' daughter. He went to her and gave her a big hug. I stood back and watched from a distance feeling a little awkward.

"Daddy!" She exclaimed. "I thought you'd never get home. I wanted to have dinner with you before Fiona's mum comes to pick me up but it was getting pretty late." She then noticed me. "Oh, hello."

"Hi." I replied, feeling extremely shy all of a sudden. Debbie Broots seemed pleased enough to see me - and was curious as to who I was and what I had to do with her father.

Broots spoke up. "Uh, Debbie, this is Melinda - we work together. I've invited her to have dinner with us, is that okay?"

I really liked the way Broots considered his daughter's opinion to be important. It said a lot about him.

"Sure." She replied and then asked me. "What happened to you?"

I looked down at myself and realised that my clothing was a little torn here and there, and the fabric was crushed - nothing dramatic but enough for Debbie to notice. I didn't know what to say at first and just looked at Broots. He didn't know what to say either.

Finally, I replied. "Oh, I was almost mugged." I elbowed Broots playfully. "Your dad here saved me." Broots blushed.

"Really?" Debbie grinned. Then she asked. "Were you scared?"

Broots opened his mouth to answer but then shut it again as he realised that she was talking to me, not him.

"Yes." I answered. "It was pretty scary. I didn't really want to go home by myself so that's why your dad asked me to have dinner with you guys."

The three of us finished preparing the dinner, chatting about all sorts of things - wonderfully normal things - as we quickly set the table and sat down to eat so that Debbie would be finished dinner in time to go to her friend's place. I felt very relaxed and comfortable - which was a blessing after the shocking afternoon I had just experienced. Debbie liked me and it surprised me just how important that was to me.

After dinner, we heard the honk of a car horn out the front. "That's Fiona's mum, Debbie. Are you ready?" Broots said. "And don't worry I'll do the clearing."

"Thanks, Daddy." She turned to me. "Are you going to be alright going home tonight?"

The question surprised me, the girl was very insightful. "Sure." I replied.

"You know what?" She announced. "You should stay here tonight. You can sleep in my room."

"Debbie!" Broots protested, blushing profusely. I could tell, however, that deep down he was hoping I would say I would stay. He was worried about me being alone. "You're more than welcome to stay. If you want to, I mean."

"Actually," I replied, "I would really appreciate being able to stay here tonight. I don't really feel up to being alone in my apartment right now. Thanks, Debbie."

"No problem!" She grinned delightedly. "I have to go - I hope I see you again soon. Maybe tomorrow if you're still here."

"That would be great." I agreed. What a lovely kid! "Have a fun night."

She smiled, gave Broots a hug goodbye and raced out the door. Once more Broots and I were on our own.

Broots looked at me a moment before saying, "Uh, I'll just go make sure Debbie's room is presentable - clean sheets and all that."

"Okay, I'll clear the table whilst you're doing that."

"Okay."

As I started clearing the plates from the table and taking them to the kitchen, I thought about how nice it was here. It was what I had often thought the concept of 'home' would be like. I smiled and started to hum cheerfully as I cleaned the kitchen. Broots returned and smiled to see me so content.

"You know," he mused, "it's so clear now how you would always steer our conversations away from yourself. Anytime I asked you anything even remotely personal, you would effortlessly get me talking about Debbie, or about my work, and I never really noticed.

I smiled. He was only working this out now?

"Now that I think about it," he continued. "I consider you to be my closest friend and yet, until this afternoon, I didn't know anything about you at all." He sighed sadly.

I touched his arm. "And now, you know nearly everything. Life's pretty weird, huh?"

"Especially where The Centre is involved." He agreed.

The rest of the evening was spent companionably in front of the television. Due to Broots' technical prowess, we were able to access pretty much any channel in the world. I let Broots have control of the remote - that's important to a man. It had certainly always been vital to my lovely computer nerd. He couldn't bear to relinquish control of the remote - he would start to get twitchy if I even touched it.

Broots took me on a tour of all his favourite channels and programs. His interests were certainly many and varied. Even though the internet had always been my preferred way of viewing the world whilst spending those years in hiding, watching tv with Broots was fascinating and fun. He made us popcorn and we laughed and talked for hours.

It was when we were watching a late movie that I got the distinct impression that Broots wanted to hold my hand. Something that simple but he was unable to bring himself to make the move. I felt warm inside and wanted. What a sweet guy.

In so many ways, Broots reminded me of the friend I had left behind - my nerd - but in other ways Broots meant so much more to me. He was special - and not in the scary Centre way in which I had always associated the word.

As I took his hand and his face lit up, I realised that I knew the true meaning of special. This man was unique and extraordinary. I settled back on the couch and looked at our intertwined fingers. Such a simple gesture, holding hands - but one that brought so much comfort. Not just for me but for him as well.

Maybe being here with Broots would be enough to keep my nightmares at bay - those hellish images that had plagued my sleep and tortured my mind for as long as I could remember. Even if only for tonight.


	8. Peaceful Interlude

I was not to be so lucky. Only a few hours after Broots and I had said goodnight and I had made myself comfortable in Debbie's lovely room, I awoke screaming and bathed in sweat. Broots was shaking me desperately with a terrified look on his face.

"It's okay. Everything's okay." He pulled me close and rocked me in his arms. His voice was low and soothing. "It was just a dream. Just a nightmare."

Just a nightmare. The same nightmares I suffered through almost every night. I wiped a mix of tears and sweat from beneath my eyes. I looked down at myself and realised what a sodden mess the sheets were - not to mention the cowboy-print pyjamas I had borrowed from Broots.

"Oh, I'm so sorry." I stammered, flushing in embarrassment.

He just smiled with the patience of a parent. "It's okay, don't worry about it at all. I'll get this fixed up in no time. Tell you what, you go have a shower - it'll make you feel better - we'll get you some new PJs and fresh sheets and everything will be as good as new."

He was right, the shower did make me feel better and soon I was safely back in bed with clean sheets and fresh PJs which had little white clouds on them. Broots certainly did have cute sets of pyjamas. The ones he himself was wearing featured little trains. Broots chucked the cowboy PJs and the damp sheets into a hamper.

"Are you gonna be okay?" He asked, as he prepared to return to his own bed.

I shook my head. "I'm never going to be okay." I replied in a tremulous voice.

"Oh," Broots sighed sympathetically as he sat down on my bed. "Sure you will be."

"Will you... Can you please...?"

"I'd do anything for you, you know that." He said gently. "What is it?"

"Stay with me." I lowered my eyes, feeling ashamed that I needed him so much.

He looked at me for a long moment and somehow seemed to sense that I didn't mean for him to just sit by the bed until I fell asleep. Rather that I needed him to lie beside me as if just having the warmth of his body nearby would be enough to bring the security that might ward off the terrors of the night. Broots hesitated due to his natural shyness and because he was unsure of the right thing to do. He was terrified of doing anything that might hurt or frighten me.

"Sure." He said finally. He got into bed awkwardly and lay next to me. He relaxed considerably when I drew close to him and put my head on his shoulder. I had in the past shared a bed with my lovely computer nerd in this way after a nightmare, and men being men I waited expectantly for the same sort of desires to filter across to me from Broots. I was in bed with the man after all. I was surprised when the responses I was expecting did not eventuate. At least not in the way I imagined. It was not that Broots did not want me. His desire was evident but it was not projected towards me and was very carefully restrained. Predominantly he radiated concern, sympathy and an overwhelming longing to take away all my fears and pain. Feeling secure bathed in the warmth of his generous spirit, I slept deeply and dreamlessly.

As I emerged from my sleepy, blissfully cosy state the next day, I became aware that Broots was no longer next to me. I felt a moment of panic but he hadn't been gone long as the sheets beside me were still warm from his body. I heard his voice softly from the next room. I stretched out my awareness and discovered he was on the phone to Sydney.

"I'm sure everything's fine, Broots." Sydney was saying calmly.

"But Syd, she's been asleep for a hell of a long time. I'm not sure if I should wake her or not?"

I glanced at the clock on Debbie's bedside table. It was 3.00pm. I was startled by this fact - I'd never slept that late before. In fact, I was lucky to be able to sleep well at all due to my frequent and recurrent nightmares.

"She went through a lot yesterday. It's only natural for the body and the mind to need time to recuperate. She'll wake up when she's ready." Sydney replied reassuringly.

"You're right, thanks Sydney."

"Oh.. and Broots..."

"Yeah."

"She's very lucky to have you as a friend."

I felt Broots smile as he hung up the phone. One thing I'd noticed about employees of The Centre is that they never said goodbye at the end of a phone call. They simply completed their conversation and disconnected. In the case of Miss Parker, the customary 'hello' was also eliminated and replaced by a terse 'What?' in varying degrees of intensity depending on her mood.

"Broots?" I called out, my voice sounding weak. I was still feeling pretty shaken from the events of the previous day.

"Hey." He said in a warm voice as he appeared in the doorway in a flash. "How are you feeling?"

"Not too bad, considering." I replied.

He smiled and I perceived that he had spent the past several hours lying in bed awake just keeping me company despite the fact that I was asleep. I appreciated the gesture.

"What would you like to do now?" He asked. "Do you want to sleep some more? Or have some breakfast / lunch / afternoon tea?"

"I'm not really hungry right now. Thanks anyway. And I think I've slept enough too. What I'd really like to do is see those red notebooks of Jarod's again."

"Melinda, are you sure?" He sounded worried. "Sydney said to wait."

"It's okay, Broots. I might not even touch them. I just want to talk with you about Jarod."

Again I felt that strange prickle of envy from him. I didn't understand that reaction at all. I tried to explore it a little but was met by that block I still seemed to have regarding Broots. There was something about him that I could just not quite perceive. I wondered why. It did not seem to be something bad that was hidden and my inability to ascertain what it was seemed to have more to do with me than him. I would have to discuss it with Sydney.

Broots went to fetch the notebooks. When he returned, we sat on Debbie's bed together with the notebooks spread out around us. Studiously avoiding touching those red books myself, I had Broots turn the pages for me and we read the newspaper articles within. We talked about Jarod's constant struggle against injustice and tyranny wherever he found it. He used his gifts to help people - people who couldn't fight back for themselves. So this is what Sydney meant when he said the answer to my question - about whether Jarod would care about what had been done to me - was obvious. Broots also told me about how Jarod had helped him. How Jarod had helped Broots gain custody of Debbie and how when his life had been in danger it was Jarod who had protected him.

I reached out to touch the notebook we were currently looking through but Broots pulled it away sharply. "Not yet." He said firmly. "Give yourself some more time."

"Alright." I agreed reluctantly. I knew he was right but a part of me just wanted to feel close to Jarod again.

"This guy you lived with and worked with... your 'lovely computer nerd'. What was his name?" asked Broots.

"Why do you want to know?" I asked sharply, suddenly feeling paranoid and suspicious. I had gone to a lot of trouble to keep him safe from The Centre, to the extent of not allowing myself to even think his name.

"Hey, hey." Broots said soothingly. "I didn't mean to pry. I was just curious. It's not like I wanted to go look him up or anything, I swear."

"I know." I replied softly. "I don't dare say it aloud. Just in case. I want to protect him."

"I understand."

_His name is Lucas. _I projected the thought towards Broots briefly and swiftly. He grinned in delight at the trust I had placed in him. _Trust can kill you..._ I tried to ignore that inner voice.

I told him firmly. "You do not say that name aloud - not even to me, alright?"

"Of course. I promise."

Lucas. My lovely computer nerd. Even to think his name felt wonderful even if I still did not dare speak it aloud. I missed him so much - for ten years he had been my whole world. How many times had I wished that I could fall in love with him and we could live together happily ever after - that I could forget that The Centre ever existed and be free. However, just as forgetting my past was impossible so was feeling something that wasn't there. I loved Lucas dearly but not in the way that either he or I wanted. What would I give to hear his voice again - but was it safe?

"Broots, is there any way I could call him - to let him know I'm okay? I can't risk The Centre being able to trace the call. Can you prevent that? Is it possible?"

He pondered this for a long moment. "I believe so. After all, for one, The Centre has no reason to be monitoring you, and two, I designed the security and tracing systems myself." He paced around the room excited by the challenge and rambled on. "I periodically sweep my house for bugs, particularly on the phones, but I'll do that again before you make your call. Then I'll log onto The Centre's mainframe and make sure nothing registers on the system. We can re-route your call via... yes... that way no-one will be able to determine his phone number." His eyes lit up with an idea. "And I could scramble the signal as well!"

I smiled at his enthusiasm. I knew that technically I could just go to a phone booth, call Lucas and The Centre would probably never find out. But the thought of even the possiblity of putting Lucas at risk in any way scared the hell out of me. Broots' plan involved way more precaution than was absolutely necessary but I certainly appreciated the effort. He understood that the more precautions we took, the safer I would feel. And better safe than sorry.

It took some time for us to set everything up to Broots' satisfaction. I was very impressed at his technical prowess. Lucas was more than proficient where computers were concerned but compared to Broots he was way out of his league.

"We're ready to go whenever you want." Broots announced cheerfully from his position behind his impressive computer system.

I took a deep breath. Was I being selfish? Perhaps putting Lucas in danger just because I believed contacting him would be of comfort to my shattered nerves? I nearly considered forgetting this foolish idea until I remembered how much Lucas would be worrying about me. He knew when I left that he may never hear from me again and it broke his heart. And I knew him well enough to know how much my calling him now would mean to him and how it would ease his mind.

My hand shook as I reached for the phone. Broots gave me a reassuring smile as he poised his hands above his keyboard. I dialled the number. I heard it ring on the other end. _Please be home, _I thought to myself - I didn't know if I'd have the courage to call again.

"Hello." The voice on the other end said. Lucas' voice.

I didn't know what to say. Meanwhile, Broots worked busily on his keyboard and kept an eagle eye on the information appearing on his screen.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" There was a pause, then, "Melinda, is that you?" The hope in Lucas' voice was reflected in his essence which I could sense even down the telephone line.

"Yes." I breathed.

"Are you okay? How is everything going?" The questions tumbled out in a rush - along with the unspoken one, _Will you ever be coming back?_

"I'm fine. Things have gotten a little tense here but I've made some friends who have helped enormously."

"That's great, I'm really happy for you. Will they help you with what you need to do?"

Broots and I exchanged a glance - he could hear both ends of the conversation through his equipment - and I sensed the uncertainty within him. He wanted to help in any way he could but the truth was he didn't know what I was planning to do - and wasn't exactly sure he wanted to know.

"Maybe." I replied simply. "It's too early to say. How are you? How is the business going?"

"Things are going pretty well - considering you're not around to keep me motivated." Lucas laughed but then his voice went soft. "I miss you so much, sweet girl."

"I miss you too, you sexy nerd." I laughed as Broots raised his eyebrows at our pet names for each other.

Broots reluctantly gave me the signal that it was time to end the call if we were to maintain the plan for minimum risk.

"I have to go. I'll try to contact you again if its possible but I'm not promising anything."

"I know." Lucas replied. "Good luck, and promise me you'll be careful."

"I'll try, I promise."

We said 'goodbye' - which made me feel very non-Centre-like - and Broots disconnected the call for me. After spending a few minutes doing final checks that nothing had registered on The Centre's system that even looked like my call had been noted, he looked at me questioningly, wondering how I was feeling after contacting Lucas.

I went to him and put my arms around him. "Thank you, Broots."

He didn't say anything but I could feel his pleasure glowing from inside him. Then a thought registered in my head coming from his direction. _You're most welcome._ I looked at him in surprise.

"Did you get that?" He asked excitedly.

I nodded, sharing his excitement. We both realised that we could have a lot of fun with this newly discovered aspect of my abilities. Not only could I project a thought into someone else's head and have them actually 'hear' it but I could also receive such a projected thought - without even being prepared for it. Sure, I received unconsciously projected thoughts all the time - people 'thinking too loudly' - but to have one consciously 'sent' was something new.

Since I didn't have any spare clothes with me, Broots and I spent the rest of the day in our PJs - like a pyjama party! - and giggled and laughed and mucked around, feeling like teenagers again. At least that's how Broots felt. I felt like I imagined it would to be a teenager free of The Centre's influence. We moved to Broots' room and lounged around on his bed, watching TV, eating junk food and having entirely telepathic conversations. It felt wonderful!

Later, we received a call from Debbie. She and her friends had decided between them to stay at Fiona's again and Sarah would join them there instead.

"Is Melinda still there?" she asked her dad. One of my talents is being able to 'hear' both sides of other people's telephone conversations.

"Yeah." Broots replied, blushing a little.

"Cool," replied Debbie enthusiastically. "Can I talk to her?"

Broots passed the phone to me. "Debbie wants to say hi."

"Hi, Debbie. Are you having a good time?" I spoke into the phone.

"I sure am! Did you sleep okay last night?"

"Actually, I had an awful nightmare." I admitted, encouraged by Debbie's natural openness.

"Did Daddy stay with you? He does whenever I have a nightmare and I don't feel as scared. That's why I thought you should stay last night."

The sweetness of the girl touched me deeply. Would I have been like this as a child if I had had a normal life? "Yeah, your daddy is pretty good at making me feel less scared."

Broots grinned broadly at the comment and blushed again. Debbie told me a bit more about what she'd been doing with her friends. It all sounded so foreign and delightful to me. I loved hearing about it.

"If you're still around when I get back on Sunday afternoon, we'll have to hang out." Debbie said hopefully.

"Sure," I replied, "I'd like that."

I passed her back to her father and they discussed when she would be delivered home by the mother of either Fiona or Sarah.

When the call was completed, Broots said, "Hey, do you wanna go to a movie, like we had planned?"

I agreed readily. Although it would have been just as easy to go back to my place on the way and get some of my own clothes, we both were still in a fun mood, so I happily combed through Broots' wardrobe to pick out some clothes to wear. We both decided on jeans and similar shirts. Broots did not have the taste in contemporary fashion that Miss Parker excelled in. His clothing was a little dated but it was what he felt comfortable in and his vaguely retro style seemed to suit him. The shirt I had chosen felt groovy and suited my mood.

My good mood continued throughout the rest of the weekend. Broots and I had a great time at the movies munching through our popcorn. I was pleased that Broots had chosen a comedy. I had done enough crying recently. We sat for hours after the movie talking in a coffee shop.

I knew that I did not want to go back to my apartment yet - I did not feel ready to be alone - so when Broots hesitatingly suggested I stay another night I jumped at the opportunity. That night I slept in his room - not Debbie's - as there was more room for us in his bed. For some reason it never occurred to either of us to sleep separately.

This time there was less awkwardness and once again any desire for me emanating from Broots was carefully restrained by him. As soon as my head was resting on Broots' shoulder and his arms were around me, I drifted off into a deep, and thankfully dreamless, sleep.


	9. A Pretend Family

Hey! Thanks for the reviews! I'm so glad that people are enjoying this! Here's some more...

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A slight tugging on my consciousness dragged me out of a heavy slumber. I sat up groggily and glanced at the clock. It was noon! I examined the nagging feeling that had awoken me and when I realised the cause I quickly started shaking the soundly sleeping Broots beside me.

"Broots! Wake up! Debbie's coming."

"Wha...? What?" Broots opened his eyes with difficulty. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, Sleepyhead, that your daughter is about a block away and will be here any minute!"

Broots leapt out of bed so quickly that he nearly ended up on the floor.

"Quick!" He gasped. "We've got to get dressed!"

I grinned. "My thoughts exactly." I grabbed the clothes I had borrowed from Broots the previous evening and started to make a dash for Debbie's room to get changed. I paused at the door and looked back for a second. Broots was racing around the room trying to find his clothes. I caught his eye and we both burst into laughter. It was as if we were teenagers about to get busted by our parents.

Then my eyes widened. "Hurry! She's nearly here!"

We were both still laughing as I raced off to change in Debbie's room. I threw off my borrowed PJs and hurriedly put on the jeans and shirt I had worn the previous night. When I emerged, Broots was just answering the door and receiving an enthusiastic hug from his daughter.

Her eyes brightened further when she saw I was still there.

"Hi, Melinda!" She said happily, then turned to her father. "Daddy, I was thinking we should all go to the zoo after lunch. Can we, please?"

Her pleading eyes and enthusiastic face were hard to resist.

Broots replied, "Well, have you done all your homework?"

"Yes! We all did it together yesterday afternoon!" Debbie replied, obviously very relieved that they had, so now there was no impediment to her afternoon plans.

"What do you think?" Broots asked me.

"I think it sounds like a brilliant idea. I've never been to a zoo before."

"Really?" Debbie's eyes widened with surprise. A million questions surfaced in her mind but she just said, "Well, you're sure to love it!"

So off we went to the zoo after lunch. And as Debbie had predicted, I enjoyed myself immensely. The animals were so beautiful and the zoo itself was an open-plan design that simulated the animals' natural habitats as much as possible. I soaked up the peaceful atmosphere and the sunlight as if I was a plant that had been kept locked away in a dark room.

Debbie and I were gazing at the giraffes whilst waiting for Broots to return with some drinks when we struck up a conversation with an elderly woman who was also admiring the grace of the long-necked animals.

"You have a lovely family, my dear." She remarked to me after a while.

I stared at her in shock but before I could reply she continued. "Such a sweet husband. I saw the way he dotes on you both. And your daughter is just beautiful. You're very lucky."

"Thank you." I replied softly. I didn't want to spoil the appealing picture she had painted of us. A family. Something I had never known. I blinked back tears. Debbie just took my hand and smiled up at me. I smiled back.

We stayed at the zoo right up until closing time and then Broots took us out to dinner. The restaurant wasn't too fancy as none of us were really dressed for anywhere special. Just a good old-fashioned family restaurant. And it seemed we were all keen to pretend for the moment that we were just that - a family. And 'pretending' didn't seem such a dangerous thing to me right now - it just felt good.

After dinner, we went bowling - another first for me. I couldn't stop laughing - I was hopeless! Broots - who was pretty damn good at bowling - kept telling me it was just a matter of practice and using the right technique. He tried to show me and we were both reminded of those old movies with the guy trying to teach a girl how to bowl and that just made us both giggle more.

Debbie, however, was not sharing our mirth. Bowl after bowl, her ball usually ended up in the gutter - just like mine - but instead of laughing, she was getting despondent and frustrated.

Our laughter quietened when we realised she was upset.

"It's okay, honey. Don't worry about it." Broots reassured her.

"Hey, at least you're beating me!" I told her cheerfully.

"Yeah, but this is your first time - and I'm not beating you by much." She replied miserably as she stepped up to bowl her second ball.

"Maybe we should have gotten those inflatable thingies in the gutters like I've seen on the TV commercials." I remarked to Broots quietly.

He whispered back. "They tend to be more for children's parties and for absolute beginners - not very cool at all."

"Oh, okay."

This time as Debbie hurled her pinkish-coloured ball down the lane with something that did not in the least resemble enthusiasm, I reached out with my senses and gave the ball a gentle nudge towards the centre, away from that cursed gutter.

It wobbled its way down the lane. I felt hope and excitement build in both Debbie and Broots as the ball got closer and closer to the pins. It struck slightly off-centre and one by one the pins tumbled until not a one was left standing.

"A spare!" Debbie shrieked in delight. "Daddy, did you see that? I got a spare!"

"That's great, sweetie! Well done!" Broots replied enthusiastically as Debbie cheerfully watched the little Congratulations animation on the scoreboard and did a little dance of glee.

"What?" I asked innocently as I felt Broots' eyes on me. I looked at him. He had a small smile on his face and an eyebrow raised in a way that spookily reminded me of Miss Parker. "What?"

He just kept smiling - it was obvious he was well aware of what I had done. "You're a very sweet person, you know that?"

I blushed and grinned back.

Debbie played a lot better after that - without my aid - due to the boost in her confidence. In between bowls, she happily told me more about what she and her friends had gotten up to that weekend. I couldn't get enough of hearing about her life - such normal, every day things to her but to me they were like something from a fantasy. A childhood that seemed like science-fiction compared to my own.

Later that night, we returned to their home. Debbie and I curled up on the couch, watched TV and chatted some more. Broots spent a while doing some work on his computer and then joined us later on, bringing with him steaming mugs of hot chocolate.

"You're staying again tonight, aren't you." Debbie said to me in a deliberately off-hand way. She spoke as if it had already been decided - and in a way it had been, by her.

I nearly choked on my hot chocolate. Not because of the directness of her words but because of the directness of her thoughts. She was hoping that her father and myself had had sex! - and that if it hadn't happened already then it would tonight. She wanted this to be the case because then it would mean Broots and I were a couple and he wouldn't be lonely any more. Besides she liked me.

Broots patted me on the back until my coughs subsided. "You're more than welcome, of course." He said softly.

"Okay." I whispered and the three of us smiled at each other.

That night I slept in Broots' bed again. He was going to insist that he would sleep on the lounge but I indicated - without telling him exactly what I had perceived from Debbie - that she would be fine about us sharing a bed. It was important to me that Debbie, that sweet selfless girl, would not disappointed - waking up to discover that her father had slept alone on the lounge thereby spoiling all her plans.

A few hours later, I awoke with a start. Broots stirred slightly but did not wake. I had been dreaming about Jarod - a disturbing, dark dream that lingered in my mind. I managed to slip out of bed without disturbing Broots. I went to the bathroom to wash my face and get a drink of water. As I stared at my reflection in the mirror, flashes of the dream resurfaced - my mind seemingly unable to release the dark images even under the cold harshness of the bathroom's fluorescent light.

_Jarod is holding me close. I bury my head in his chest relishing the warmth and strength of his arms. "He will protect me." I tell myself. "He will keep me safe." He moves away slightly, bringing his face towards mine. He kisses me with a fierce intensity that scares me. _

_With his hands on my shoulders, Jarod abruptly pushes me away from him roughly and backhands me across the face, knocking me to the floor. I touch my stinging cheek with a shaking hand and look up at him with tears in my eyes. "Why?" I ask. _

_"You killed our child!" He snarls in a mix of fury and anguish. "Our baby died because of you." His eyes - those beautiful young-old eyes - now look at me filled with hate and disgust. _

_"Jarod, no!" I plead. "It wasn't my fault! It was The Centre... they hurt me."_

_"And you let them." He sneers with contempt. "You could have fought back... with all your powers, you should have at least tried."_

_"I couldn't, Jarod. I couldn't!" I sob over and over. As he turns his back on me and begins to leave, I beg, "Jarod, please, you have to believe me - you are all I have!"_

_He stops but does not turn to face me. With his back to me and in a voice so cold it feels like it could freeze my heart he says, "And as far as I'm concerned, you no longer exist."_

_The door slams behind him and..._

And then I had woken up.

My reflection in the mirror stared back at me, its face pale and smooth with the reddish tumble of curls made even wilder from sleep. Under the fluorescent light, the green of my eyes seemed to glow eerily. _You no longer exist, _whispered a fragment of the dream. What did it all mean? It didn't have to mean anything - it was just a dream. But something about the dream nagged at me. I knew it was not a memory resurfacing. I knew that I had never spoken to Jarod, never met him.

I struggled to make sense of my feelings about this dream. It was about the baby. The baby which The Centre had planned to create. Had planned to create by using Jarod and me. But the child had never existed - I had been released before they could carry out their plans.

The child had never existed. Sure, occasionally - during the darkest times - I had fantasised about escaping The Centre with Jarod and the baby. Escaping and making a life for ourselves away from the evilness of The Centre. However, that was just a fantasy - the child did not exist and Jarod, well he didn't even know me. He didn't even know I existed.

_You no longer exist_, whispered the dream again and tears fell down my cheeks softly. _Would Jarod have cared about what happened to me? _I remembered asking Sydney. Would he care? Would he care about me?

I stumbled towards the bedroom and the light from the bathroom illuminated the red notebooks, full of newspaper clippings about Jarod's exploits, on a small table by the wall. Would Jarod care about me? Without thinking, I reached out a hand to touch those books. At the same time, I opened up my perceptions completely, willing the long remembered light of Jarod's spirit to drown away the darkness.

With those five books clutched in my arms, I fell to the floor overwhelmed and locked in the visions that flooded my mind. I could do nothing but lie there and experience. The visions came in flashes, some more detailed than others.

_"I was taken from my family. Since I escaped I've spent every moment searching for them."_

_FLASH_

_"How did we end up like this?"_

_"Like what, Jarod?" Miss Parker asks wearily._

_"Alone... searching. It's ironic because we both want the same things. Someone to care about... someone to care about us. Do you think we'll ever find that kind of love in our lives, Miss Parker?" _

_FLASH_

_There is a heartbreaking look of longing on Jarod's face as someone says to him: "You know what? You're gonna make a great father someday." _

_FLASH_

_"How could someone abandon a child, Sydney?"_

_FLASH_

The next thing I knew, the notebooks were being torn from my grasp and the loss of connection was like being doused with cold water. Broots was leaning over me, holding me in his arms and his face was deathly pale. He was very angry - I had never seen him angry before and the shock of this unexpected emotion washed over me making me whimper.

His voice was stern - the voice of a parent disobeyed by a foolish child. "It was too soon. You knew that. Sydney told you that. I told you that. Yet you still had to go do it." Then his anger vanished as quickly as it had appeared. "Please don't do that again, or anything like it. Not unless, you have Sydney there to guide you, to make sure it's safe. Don't scare me like that again." He held me close to him and his fingers played across the ringlets in my hair. "Promise me you'll be sensible about this."

"I'm sorry, Broots." I murmured, rambling. "I never meant to do anything to upset you. You've been wonderful to me. I don't know how I would have gotten through this without you."

"Shh.. It's okay." He soothed. "Let's just get some sleep now. I'm sure tomorrow is going to be a big day."

Tomorrow. Monday. Back to work at The Centre. God, I couldn't believe I hadn't thought about that until now. I couldn't help but have butterflies in my stomach at the thought of finally working on my abilities with Sydney after all these years. Then my thoughts turned to Miss Parker - how would she react to me now that she had had the weekend to absorb Friday's revelations? For that matter, how would things between Broots and myself be once we got back to work?

I was a little shaken from the visions inspired by Jarod's notebooks and from the dream that haunted me still but I pulled myself together as Broots led me back to bed. I had to be strong. Friday had seen me totally lose control and if I was to survive long enough to do what had to be done I would have to regain that control. What did it matter if Miss Parker couldn't handle the truth? She would not betray my secret - I knew her well enough to know that much. The fact was that, in the end, I would not be able to let my feelings for any of them stand in the way of where I was headed. Not even Broots.

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Let me know what you think.


	10. Monday Morning

Thanks again everyone! I'm really enjoying sharing this story again... getting closer to the unwritten gap but I'll work on finishing the missing chapter in the meantime. As for Jarod appearing, well... you'll find out but for now he's at leastappearingin the storyin flashbacks, visionsand DSA recordings. Hehe.

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Monday morning, Broots and I got Debbie off to school and managed to get into The Centre quite early despite having to stop in at my apartment for me to get some clothes suitable for work. It felt strange to be wearing my glasses and pinning my hair up in a french roll again after the comfortable casual air of the weekend.

I was glad that we had arrived before either Sydney or Miss Parker. I wanted to have a chance to settle in a bit before Miss Parker, in particular, arrived. I was concerned about how she would react today following her discovery of the truth about me. Besides, it was always a good idea to arrive before Miss Parker if possible.

The moment I set foot in the office, I perceived that Angelo wanted to see me - that he had something to show me. I wondered what it could be.

When I told Broots about the message, he offered to alter the security records whilst I was visiting Angelo. Otherwise it might look strange that a secretary - even one that worked for Miss Parker - would go to visit the empath.

All thoughts regarding Angelo disappeared as I suddenly remembered about Friday. The security cameras! Did they catch every shocking revelation about my past? God, how stupid was I to forget about that?

"Broots! The damn cameras would have recorded everything! What am I going to do!"

He smiled and said one word. "Deleted."

"When?" My blood ran cold at the prospect of those two days since. Anyone could have viewed those records over the weekend.

"I did it Friday night before we left. Standard operating procedure. It has become a habit of mine to delete and/or alter the security records immediately following any kind of 'interesting' conversations we have in here."

"Oh god, Broots, you're a legend. I could kiss you!"

"Feel free." He grinned.

I startled him quite a bit - and myself as well - when I took his face in my hands and pressed my lips against his. After a moment we both relaxed into it and I felt his hands on the small of my back drawing me closer. His lips were so soft and he sure could kiss! I began to feel light headed and was glad of the support of Broots' hands against my back. I could quite easily perceive his amazement at this turn of events. I was feeling pretty amazed myself.

I broke away suddenly as I sensed Sydney's amused presence behind us. Broots and I both blushed guiltily.

"Glad to see you two getting along so well." Sydney remarked casually, not quite able to hide his smile.

"Hi Sydney." Broots and I said together, feeling like children who had just been busted by their parents.

"Is Miss Parker in yet?" asked Sydney.

"Not yet," replied Broots.

"How are you doing this morning?" Sydney asked me.

"Much better thank you, Sydney." I replied.

"So do you feel up to a session with me today?"

"Oh yes!" I tried not to sound as eager as I felt but I don't think I hid my enthusiasm very well.

He smiled indulgently. He wasn't unenthusiastic either. "I should be free at around 11 o'clock. We'll work on a few things, see how it goes and then maybe continue again after lunch."

"Thanks, Sydney."

As Sydney headed for his office, Broots grinned and gave me an encouraging thumbs-up.

Now we were alone again, I couldn't help but look at Broots shyly, remembering that incredible but all too brief kiss. He seemed to be thinking the same thing and began moving towards me.

Before he could take me in his arms again, however, we were interrupted by the arrival of Miss Parker. The moment she entered, Broots had to reach out a hand to steady me. The hard, angry, dispassionate, controlled woman I had met that first day was back - the walls were back. She may as well have physically hit me. Despite that I still instinctively reached out to cool the ulcer that seethed within her.

"Stop that!" She snapped. "I don't have time for your games this morning. I expect these reports to be completed and on my desk in an hour." She dropped a huge pile of files on my desk.

Okay, so this was the way she wanted to play it. I just smiled coldly and headed for the door.

"And where do you think you're going?" She demanded with an angrily arched eyebrow.

I replied calmly. "I have a session with Sydney at eleven. Until then, I'm going to spend some time with Angelo."

Her eyes blazed and she stepped right up to me until our noses were practically touching. She was very intimidating when she got like this - but somehow I was unaffected by her tactics. Broots looked at us both nervously.

"Don't you forget, Melinda, that you work for me." She growled. "And I seem to remember that I gave you plenty of work to do not more than a minute ago. I will allow you time with Sydney but you do _not_ have time to go 'hang' with Cousin It."

I stared right back at her, my anger rising to match hers - and not just because she had referred to Angelo as Cousin It - my anger was fuelled by the hurtful loss of our closeness. She was deliberately shutting me out, acting like she had when we had first met. I knew it was just a defense mechanism of hers - she was protecting herself - but that didn't stop me from feeling hurt and angry.

Besides, she had no right to push me around. I was not some weak-willed nobody to be ordered about and controlled like one of her personal sweepers. One thing that I had been shoving to the back of my mind for countless years was the realisation of the full extent of my power. I had only begun to accept this idea just before my return to The Centre but after the events of last Friday afternoon the concept was slowly dawning on me. I didn't have to be afraid any more - cautious, yes - but not afraid. The truth remained that my as yet unexplored potential was vast.

I concentrated for a moment and felt the rush as I used my powers. Without flinching from Miss Parker's unrelenting gaze, I spoke in a voice that sounded barely under control as cold fury washed over me, tinged with an aching sadness. "I think you'll find, _Miss Parker_, that my work is now complete."

Miss Parker stalked over to my desk and rifled disbelievingly through the completed reports and documents. She stared at me stunned into speechlessness.

"Now if you'll kindly excuse me, Angelo is expecting me." I said quietly before turning and leaving the room.

By the time I reached Angelo's space and had then crawled through the air ducts to his secret hideaway - a place where the air duct widened into a little alcove-like area - my anger had all but been washed away by sorrow. Why couldn't things be the same between us? Broots and I were closer than ever - why did Miss Parker have to make things so difficult?

Angelo sensed my mood immediately and understood its cause. I sat down next to him and he wrapped his arms around me. I leaned against his shoulder and sighed.

"It's just not fair, Angelo." I murmured.

Angelo just stroked my hair.

"Daughter scared. Daughter needs time." He said eventually.

Daughter. That was how he referred to Miss Parker - probably meaning that she was Catherine's daughter, or perhaps that she was the daughter of Mr Parker, Chairman of The Centre.

"You're right, Angelo. I just wish that friendships weren't so much hard work!" Finally, I lifted my head from his shoulder and asked. "What was it that you wanted to show me, old friend?"

His eyes lit up and from a corner of this secret place in the air ducts he withdrew a box. It was teeming with DSAs. Digital Simulation Archives - silvery disks smaller than CDs on which were stored The Centre's security logs and other various recordings.

"Secret." Angelo said.

I understood. No-one knew that Angelo had these stashed away. I ran my hands over the multitude of disks. Who knew what kind of information these contained? What treasures - what secrets - what truths. My mind whirled with the possibilities.

However, I simply replied. "Don't worry, Angelo. I won't tell anyone that you have these." These disks were Angelo's and if there was something that I needed to see, Angelo would show me in due course. As if he had read my mind - and in a way he had - Angelo handed me a disk.

"For you."

"Thank you, Angelo." I replied, wondering what the disk contained. I would have to be patient until I was alone and could view its contents.

I stayed with Angelo until nearly 11 o'clock. He could communicate with me telepathically a lot better than he could interact normally with the outside world. Eventually, it was time for my session with Sydney so I bid Angelo farewell and returned to the office.

I bumped into Sydney in the corridor outside the office. We shared a look that conveyed how much we were looking forward to this session. Sydney held the door open for me and we entered to find Miss Parker and Broots huddled around a monitor. Unbeknownst to them, Sydney and I stood behind them and watched the scene being played out on the screen.

_A young girl, about ten years old, whimpers. "I can't move. What did that needle do to me? I can't move. What are you doing? No, please don't. No. No! NO!"_

_She screams over and over as the shadowy figure blocks her from the view of the camera. No-one can hear her in this soundproof chamber and even if they could no-one would help her. What is one more scream from deep within the bowels of The Centre?_

My face drained of blood. The terrified girl on the screen was me. Sydney laid a concerned hand on my shoulder. I did not move. I stood there feeling oddly detached and fascinated by how the light from the monitor illuminated the unshed tears in Miss Parker's eyes. The scene changed.

_The girl - even younger this time, five years old at most perhaps less - lies motionless in a white hospital bed surrounded by white flowing drapes of material. Two nurses whisper._

_"We've had to keep her heavily sedated ever since Mrs Parker died. She won't stop screaming."_

_"I heard they were close."_

_"Mrs Parker was close to all the children. Still, how did Millie know Mrs Parker was dead?"_

_"Someone must have told her."_

The scene changed once more.

_The girl is now about 15 but once again unconscious in a hospital bed. However, this time there is blood everywhere - covering everything - and her face is puffy and bruised._

_A younger version of Raines frantically tries to stop the bleeding._

_"Someone help me!" He yells. It is late in the day and most people have gone home. "I won't let you die, I promise." Raines whispers fiercely before raising his voice again. "Someone help!"_

_The younger Sydney hurries in. "I was just on my way out - what's the matter?" He sees the girl and the state she is in. "Good God, man! What happened? Who did this?"_

_"I found her like this on SL-15. I don't know who attacked her. Quickly, we must stop the bleeding!"_

_Sydney and Raines begin to work feverishly to save the young girl's life. A life that hangs by a very fine thread. _

"Turn it off." Somehow I found my voice. A thousand emotions boiled in my mind. I felt myself teetering on the edge of control.

Miss Parker and Broots whirled around in shock. Broots started to stammer an apology but I held up a hand to stop him. I knew he would always do as Miss Parker asked and this had been such an occasion. She had asked him to search for the records of my life at The Centre. _It's alright,_ I sent him the thought, _I'm not angry with you._

Miss Parker was another story. She had the nerve to treat me so coldly this morning and now she went behind my back to perform a search on me. At least she had the grace to look ashamed.

Finally she said. "I just wanted to understand..." Her eyes softened and tears glistened again unchecked against the cool grey depths.

All my hostility melted away. For a moment, I had her back again - my friend back again - but then with a brisk wave of her hand she announced, "Well, I'm keeping you both from your work."

The moment had passed and the walls were once again up but not as solidly as before. Progress had been made. I vowed I would keep chipping away at those walls around Miss Parker's heart for as long as it took. I would regain the friendship between us that had been gained and lost seemingly in the space of a week.

* * *

Let me know what you think...


	11. In Training

Hey guys, here's a long one for you... wow, I wrote long chapters in those days:)

* * *

After consulting with Broots to make sure there would be no security recordings of our session, Sydney and I adjourned to his office to begin our work. Butterflies of excitement and nervousness danced merrily in my stomach. I was grateful that Sydney tactfully did not mention the DSA recordings that Broots and Miss Parker had been watching.

Sydney walked over to a stereo system against one wall, selected a CD and soon classical music was floating from the speakers. When I looked at him quizzically, he explained that if anyone were to come by the explanation would be that we were just listening to music.

"After all," he said, "I'm hoping that we might be able to communicate telepathically and it'd look strange us just sitting here staring at each other."

I laughed. "Actually, I know that it is possible to communicate that way."

"Do you mean sending and receiving? And with someone who does not have telepathic abilities?"

"Yes, Broots and I played around with that on the weekend. We could 'talk' quite easily."

"That could be an extremely useful talent." Sydney remarked. "I wonder if Broots has a latent ability or if you can do so with anyone... Shall we try?"

I nodded grinning and sent the thought - _'Lets go tell Mr Parker that his son, Lyle, is gay!'_

Sydney shook his head. "If you were sending something then, I didn't receive it." He sounded disappointed. He was thinking, 'If Broots can do it, why can't I?'.

"Hold on, I'll try with Broots again - I have a feeling I was doing something differently." I sent Broots a thought - _'Broots, can you hear me?_' - got the reply _'Roger, reading you loud and clear!'_

I laughed and sent back _'Who the hell is Roger?' _and received his amused non-verbal response.

Sydney watched me with fascination, wondering what was going on.

"Okay," I spoke aloud to Sydney. "I've worked out the difference. With you I was trying too hard or something. Let's try that again."

"Alright." He agreed and his mind was calculating all the possible reasons why concentrating harder on this task would be making it more difficult. Before he could begin to discuss all these concepts with me, which I considered would be the less interesting part of our work together, I sent him the thought again. This time I let it happen more naturally.

_'Lets go tell Mr Parker that his son is gay!'_

"Is he!" Sydney gasped out loud. "But I've never seen any of the classic signs of homosexuality in him or..." Then he saw the overly innocent look on my face and gave a chuckling sigh. "That was a joke, wasn't it?

"Yep. Thought it might help if the thought wasn't something you would have come up with yourself anyway - it proves that it was sent by me and not just guessed by you."

"Good point."

We practiced sending and receiving thoughts in a more structured way compared to what Broots and I had been mucking around with on the weekend. Sydney asked detailed questions about everything I had discovered I could do as well as getting me to demonstrate some of these things - he especially enjoyed it when I levitated the both of us around the room. He got me to describe how it felt when I used different aspects of my powers.

At first the words came haltingly - I wasn't used to discussing my powers with anyone - but gradually it became easier and eventually I held nothing back regarding my gifts. _Trust can kill you_ screamed the voice in my mind again but, as I had been doing so much lately, I squashed that thought away firmly. I had to tell Sydney as much as I could about my powers because he was the only one who could help me reach my potential and he couldn't do that without having a full picture of how it all worked.

Then the conversation turned in a different direction - Sydney started subtly to turn things into a counselling session.

"Sydney." I admonished. "You're being a psychiatrist."

He just smiled. "I am a psychiatrist."

"I don't need..."

"I think you do. No-one could go through the kind of childhood you had and be totally fine."

"Well, I'm not going to let you psychoanalyze me just yet." I lowered my eyes. "I'm simply not ready to trust you that much." _Trust can kill you or set you free. No! Trust can kill you._

"That's understandable. I hope that given time you will feel differently. I only want to help you."

"I know, Sydney."

We were both silent for a moment and then I found the courage to ask him something that had been bothering me for a while now.

"Sydney, you know how I automatically 'read' people - kind of get a sense of what they're like, how they feel about things - well, the thing is... I can't fully read Broots."

"What do you mean?" Sydney asked, intrigued.

"At first it all seems normal but then at a certain point, I just hit some kind of wall - and its not like there is anything wrong with him - there is definitely something there that I'm blocked from seeing."

"Do you think its something that Broots is subconsciously doing?"

"That's the thing, Sydney, I don't know for certain of course but I really don't think it has anything to do with him. I think it's my problem - that I'm the one with the block."

"And you only experience this with Broots?"

"So far. Sure, some people are harder to pin down than others, especially in The Centre, and people have lots going on underneath the surface that I don't automatically read - that I would have to delve a little further to discover - but this block I have regarding Broots is very definite."

"Can you ascertain what facet of Broots it is that is hidden from you?"

I pondered this for a moment. Why hadn't I tried to work that out before? Maybe that's why I still have a block, I thought ruefully. After reaching out my senses to Broots, who was still working away on his computer in the outer office, and exploring the edges of the area of him that I could not read, I finally answered Sydney's question.

"I think...that it has something to with how he feels..."

"Yes?" prompted Sydney.

"...about me!" I finished with surprise but then added uncertainly, "Maybe. I mean, I know how Broots feels about me - he cares about me and wants me to be happy. He's my best friend and I'm his. We have fun together. How can it be about that when I can sense his feelings for me already?"

Sydney wore a satisfied expression. He was fairly sure that he had the answer - but to my frustration he kept it hidden from me. I realised this was going to be irritating for me - Sydney had enough mental discipline to keep at least certain thoughts from me now that he was aware of my abilities. "I don't know for absolute certain, but I have a few suspicions as to why you have subconsciously placed this restriction upon yourself."

"Sydney!" I entreated. "Tell me!"

"I can't just tell you, it doesn't work like that." He grinned broadly. "It's something we'll have to explore further - I will help to guide you through it but in the end it is something that you must discover for yourself. The actual process of doing so is the most important part of getting past your block."

I threw my hands up in mock despair and grumbled. "Thanks a lot, Sydney. You've been a big help on that issue. Listen, if you're so determined to get me into therapy there is something I'd like to work on."

"And what is that?"

"I'd kinda like to not freak out every time someone calls me special. Or you know, that P word."

"Speaking of which," He began tentatively, gently, "What would you think about trying a sim?"

"Are you saying I might be a Pretender?" I gasped in shock. A sim - simulation - was something Pretenders did. I felt my eyes go wide with fright even though I knew I had nothing to be afraid of - I was no longer a child and The Centre was not involved in my training this time. It was just Sydney and me hidden away in his office - and thanks to Broots, also hidden from the ever present security cameras.

"Not in the obvious sense, no. Although your intelligence levels are quite high, you do not quite make it into the genius category which is an integral part of being classed a Pretender."

"Folks are dumb where I come from..." I pouted dramatically, making light of things, but my heart was still pounding.

Sydney grinned. "However, I believe you could still successfully perform certain types of sims and perhaps we will discover yet another facet of your extraordinary talents."

"I'll think about it."

He nodded, satisfied with my answer for now. "Melinda," he began and I knew he was going to ask me something I couldn't tell him. "What are you hoping to achieve by being back here at The Centre after all these years?"

_Trust can kill you!_ I smiled coldly. "I could ask you a similar question."

He was surprised. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that I find it interesting that after all that you've seen The Centre do, all the people they've destroyed, you're still here. You could just leave - just walk away."

He took the bait as I had hoped - anything to distract him from getting me talking about my goals and where my loyalties lay. His normal calm air seemed to vanish and his accent grew thicker as his emotions took hold of him.

"I can't just walk away! Jarod, Miss Parker - they need me - I have to protect them. I have to do whatever I can to make up for this madness of which I've been a part!"

His vehemence took us both by surprise. Now he was still and staring at me. I realised that he was suddenly struck by what he saw as a heady mix of beauty and power in my face and he was unsure of whether to be afraid or awed. This did not concern me as I felt a deadly calm overtake me. My mission was clear to me, my resolve seemed stronger to me than ever.

"Just as I have to do what must be done. However long it takes. Whatever it takes."

Sydney was about to speak again - to ask me more - but just then we were interrupted by the appearance of Mr Lyle in the outer office. I arranged it so that, through me, Sydney was able to picture in his mind what was going on out there just as I could. The delight in Sydney's eyes at this new experience pleased me immensely especially as this distraction seemed to completely dispel the tension that had built up between us a moment ago.

"What's going on in there?" Lyle asked Broots, indicating Sydney's office.

"Uh... Melinda and Sydney are listening to some classical music."

"Why? Does it have something to do with Jarod?"

"No. They both just like the same type of music. They say its helps them to relax or something..." Broots trailed off. Sydney and I smiled at each other. Broots was doing pretty well at covering for us.

"Classical music, hey? So that's a way in..." Lyle mused.

"Huh?" Broots was perplexed.

"Ya gotta know what a woman's interests are, bucko, if you want to get anywhere with her. That Melinda is a prize piece if ever I saw one..."

Lyle turned away from Broots towards Sydney's office, therefore missing the silent but nevertheless vehement snarl that appeared on Broots' face as he bore down on Lyle with very clenched fists. Sydney and I exchanged alarmed glances.

"Gotta go break this up." I leapt out of my chair and hurried for the door with Sydney following closely.

The hostility on Broots' face melted away as soon as I appeared and he gave me a little sheepish grin. Thank god, Broots had not had the chance to attack Lyle - I doubt that Broots would have lasted long against this cold-blooded killer. The man who had killed Jarod's brother, Kyle. Though, I suppose that Broots could have gotten a few good shots in before Lyle creamed him.

"Melinda! Just the person I was looking for!" Mr Lyle approached me immediately, taking both my hands in his before I could pull away. "I heard about what happened on Friday evening. I'm so sorry. I just wanted you to know that your assailant has been dealt with severely. "

I said nothing and fought the urge to flinch away from him. When Mr Lyle said that my assailant had been 'dealt with severely', I didn't know - because I didn't want to know - whether that meant he had been executed, punished or perhaps even promoted. Stranger things had happened - after all, Brigitte was now married to Mr Parker and expecting his child, less than a year after she had attempted to assassinate him. Sometimes I felt like I should burn the whole place to the ground just to eliminate the craziness, but then all my answers would burn with it.

"Are you alright? Is there anything I can do?" His voice and eyes reflected concern. Genuine concern, I realised with surprise, but only because he hoped to get me into bed sometime soon.

"I'm fine now, thank you Mr Lyle."

"Good. Glad to hear it." Mr Lyle cupped my chin in his hand - the one with a thumb, thank god - and looked me in the eyes intently. "If you ever need _anything_, you come to me."

I sensed one of Miss Parker's 'spare me' roll of the eyes as she came out of her office behind me to see what was going on.

"I'll keep that in mind." I replied, feeling slightly ill. I couldn't help but remember Sydney and me joking earlier about whether Lyle was gay but the thoughts he had about me where more than an indication that he was definitely not. In desperation to escape the horrible images he unknowingly forced upon me, I submersed my perceptions instead in the soothing aura of Broots who standing protectively nearby.

He looked at me again, this time with a leer. "You know, you're a very attractive young woman." With that he turned and left with only a brusque "Carry on." directed towards the others, leaving me feeling like I needed to take a shower.

Miss Parker approached me. I sensed she was going to apologise about earlier and apologising was something that did not come easily to Miss Parker. I felt like being hard on her but I wanted too much for things to be like they were before - besides after the successful two hours just spent with Sydney I was in a generous mood.

"Listen, Melinda..." Miss Parker began reluctantly, "About those DSAs..."

"Look, I'm okay about it now - I just would have preferred if you had asked me first." I told her. "If you plan on doing any more digging into my past then I would appreciate it if you would keep me in the loop."

"Agreed." Miss Parker replied, relieved that she would not have to do any grovelling - not that she would ever stoop to such a pathetic level.

The outer doors hissed open and we all turned to see who had entered this time. To our collective surprise it was the Chairman of The Centre himself, Miss Parker's father, who was known simply as Mr Parker. It was very rare to find anyone who was known by more than one name to be even remotely involved in the higher echelons of power at The Centre.

The secretaries down where I had worked in the Administrative Department - something that seemed like a lifetime ago - were Betty Russell, Dorothy Smith and so on but up here it was all simply Brigitte, Sydney, Mr Lyle, Mr Parker, Miss Parker, Broots. The trend even continued to Miss Parker's sweeper, Sam and Mr Raines' sweeper, Willie. In fact, now that I thought about it, the only people I knew both names for were William Raines... and Catherine Parker. Respectively, Evil and Good personified, I mused.

I turned back to listen to what Mr Parker had come to say. I was surprised when he turned to me after only a brief acknowledgement of his daughter's presence.

"Ah, Melinda. I suppose it is about time we were formally introduced - I'm Mr Parker, the Chairman of The Centre. I suppose you're wondering why I've dropped by to see you."

"Not really, sir." I replied respectfully. "I imagine you wanted to talk about what happened last week." I didn't have to be a mind-reader to work that one out.

"Well, yes. Terrible business that. I wanted to offer my personal apology and to let you know that I have instructed that better security lighting, cameras and other such measures are to be installed in the employees' carpark immediately."

All of a sudden I wanted to yell something like 'Cameras didn't save Catherine!' but managed to simply nod. His presence put me on edge. There was something so strange about him and I began to wonder if he even kept secrets from himself. In the back of my mind I was still a little worried that somehow he might remember the young girl whose release he had authorised some ten years ago.

That awkward piece of business attended to, Mr Parker continued on in a jokey tone, "So is my daughter giving you a hard time?"

"Daddy..." Miss Parker protested.

"She's very professional, sir. I enjoy working with her."

"Good, good. Well, keep up the good work."

He made motions that he was about to leave so I sent a thought to Sydney letting him know that I was going to get Mr Parker to invite his daughter to lunch. A demonstration for Sydney as well as an act of kindness for the woman whom I still considered a friend. He nodded almost imperceptibly to show he understood.

A gentle suggestion - 'You should have lunch together' - sent towards Mr Parker and he quite readily spoke up. I smiled to myself, this was my old Jedi mind trick at work.

He turned to Miss Parker, using his pet name for her. "Angel, how does lunch with the old man sound?"

"That'd be wonderful, Daddy. I'm ready to go now, if you are." Miss Parker glowed.

"Sure." He smiled like a king bestowing the privilege of his company on a favoured subject. They left for lunch arm in arm.

"Very impressive." Sydney told me.

Broots looked confused and then it dawned on him. "Did you just make him ask her to lunch?"

I grinned wickedly. "I didn't _make_ him do it, dear Broots, I merely made a suggestion."

"Messing with Mr Parker's mind... Scary." Broots shuddered dramatically.

"And potentially fraught with danger," warned Sydney. "As long as you don't suggest something too far out of their usual behaviour patterns."

"So I guess 'suggesting' to the powers that be that they let Jarod remain free is out of the question?" I quipped before realising that I was skirting near an issue that I don't think any of us were to discuss just yet. The issue of where exactly we all stood on the matter of Jarod.

"Yes, I would think so." answered Sydney carefully.

"Anyway," Broots broke in quickly to mercifully change the subject. "Are you guys about ready to take a break? I was hoping I could persuade Melinda to have lunch with me."

Sydney had some work he had been neglecting so he decided to take this opportunity to get some of it done. Broots and I headed off to the lunchroom together. I had been hoping to get a chance to watch the DSA that Angelo had given me but preferably whilst no-one else was around. Instead, however, I ended up confiding in Broots about the disk and he suggested taking our food back to the office so we could check it out while Miss Parker was at lunch and Sydney was busy in his office.

However, when we arrived we discovered that Miss Parker had returned from her lunch with Mr Parker much earlier than we had expected and was now talking with Sydney in the outer office. The DSA would have to wait for another time.

"What happened to your lunch with Mr Parker?" I asked.

"Lyle ended up joining us and then they both went off for some important meeting that apparently was no concern of mine." She sounded resigned and no doubt by now she was used to being let down by her father. After all, it was clear to me that he lied to her all the time. Sometimes so much so that I thought he might even have begun to believe some of those lies himself.

Ultimately, as far as I could tell so far anyway, Mr Parker did have his daughter's best interests at heart - and he hid things from her in order to protect her, or at least that is what he told himself. He looked at the very big picture - at where they might be in twenty years time and he felt that anything justified the means to his end. As to what he was actually aiming for, I was uncertain - perhaps it was simply survival?

Whatever his reasoning - however he felt his actions were justifiable - I felt quite sure that if he wasn't very careful he would lose his daughter forever. Most likely it would be sooner rather than later. After all, how many times could she be let down - how often could she be deceived - until she no longer had any faith or trust in her father?

"You have a very strange family, Miss Parker." I remarked.

"You're telling me." She replied ruefully. "Well, what about you? Are you like Jarod and searching unrelentingly for your family?"

It amused me in a way that no-one had dared ask me that question until now. The day had been spent mostly dancing around touchy subjects and when it came to things involving my past with The Centre most issues were touchy.

The thing that I found amusing was the way they didn't avoid such subjects for the sake of not upsetting me but rather because the answers tended to make them feel uncomfortable.

"Family? Never had one, maybe never will." I was a little surprised to hear the bitterness in my own voice. I thought I had come to terms with this issue - that I would probably spend the rest of my life relatively alone. Perhaps my recent excursion into the Broots household had reawakened my longing for that elusive word - home - and with it the concept of family.

The dream from last night lingered and I thought of the baby that had been planned for me - and would have been created without my consent - all those years ago, the child that would have been Jarod's. What a wondrous child it would have been, with his extraordinary gifts intermingled with my powers! But within The Centre such a child would be completely and utterly doomed. Just as Jarod and I were doomed - despite being physically free of The Centre we were both still trapped by our pasts.

"But your parents? Who were they?" persisted Miss Parker, rousing me from my thoughts.

Broots looked at his feet, shifting uncomfortably, wishing Miss Parker would leave me alone. As for Sydney, he was interested as always.

I shook my head. "Those fools couldn't give me to The Centre fast enough once they had even an inkling of my abilities. They knew The Centre was not benevolent when they abandoned me to them but that didn't bother my parents in the slightest. They were glad to be rid of me.

"Even so," I paused sighing, "I grieved for them for a time after The Centre had them killed."

Miss Parker went white at the matter-of-fact tone of my voice. I understood.

I turned to her. "I know you find it hard to understand - you still grieve from your mother whose spirit shone a light from within so brightly that even people without my gifts could perceive it."

Her eyes filled with tears.

"My parents, however, were weak, unfeeling people who took the money offered by The Centre for me without a second thought. They paid with their lives for dealing with the devil. I pitied them, forgave them and moved on."

"My mother..." Her voice trembled and I tensed because I knew the question that was following. "Do you know who killed her?"

Her emotions welled up inside her before breaking over me like some terrible wave. The intensity was compounded by the fact that I felt the same way myself. Oh, Catherine! My heart still ached from her loss every day even though I had been so very young when she had been killed.

"Do you know who killed my mother!" She demanded again.

My knees buckled and I wavered slightly. Sydney stepped forward swiftly to intervene but I held up a hand. I looked Miss Parker straight into those cool gray eyes.

"No." I answered, my voice somehow remaining steady.

Her disappointment and despair cut through me like a knife.

"However," I continued as I moved forward to take her shoulders in my hands. "I _will_ find out given time and I _will make them pay._"

Her eyes burned with intense fire as she understood our common purpose. Totally uncharacteristically, she embraced me fiercely.

"My thoughts exactly." She growled in a voice filled with determination and menace.

What was it that we were after - justice or revenge? I had never been able to decide which I desired most. Maybe when it all came down to it, they were the same thing.

* * *

Let me know what you think...


	12. Fractured Psyche

AN: Thanks everyone! And yes I realise that her abilities make it easier for me as a writer! I'm just writing it - if she knows what the caller on the other end is saying via the thoughts of the callee nearby... well I can't help that. Hehe. Now I'm up to the gap between sections so I'll have to write some NEW material. I haven't written any of this fic in years! It's exciting! I'll need all the encouragement I can get. Once the gap part is written then I'll be showing you bits that almost NO-ONE has ever read! Oh, and I'm Australian which is why The Centre is spelt that way (etc). I know they're in the US and therefore spell it Center but it's my fic and I'll spell things THE RIGHT WAY hehe if I want to... Thank you everyone for the support and I'll do my best to get the next bit written soonish.

* * *

As the days went on, things settled into a pattern, not quite back to the way it had been - that was simply not possible - but quite smooth considering all that had changed. Miss Parker had come to realise - and even appreciate - that any work she gave me to do would be done in an instant, so she allowed me the freedom to do pretty much whatever I wanted with the rest of my time.

A number of hours per day were spent exercising and developing my abilities, either with Sydney or alone. I spent quality time with Angelo or hanging out with Broots helping him with his work. Broots in return helped me to access The Centre's computer mainframe to search for some of the answers and other information I was seeking.

The rest of the time I wandered The Centre's multitude of corridors, on pretext of some errand or other, keeping my senses peeled for any secrets that might filter through the general noise.

It wasn't until a number of days had passed since Angelo had given me the DSA that I was able to view what was on it. Broots and I were alone - Miss Parker and Sydney were elsewhere doing whatever it was they did when they weren't in the office. Miss Parker was attending one of the never ending process of meetings that executives have to deal with and Sydney was off doing some sort of research and conducting his psychological studies.

I sat at Broots' workstation while he stood next to me and prepared to insert the silvery disk into a slot. He asked if I needed him to keep watch at the door to make sure that our activities remained private.

"Thanks anyway, Broots, but I can handle the lookout duties from here." I stretched out my perceptions so that if anyone came anywhere near the entry I would be instantly warned. It was a skill that Sydney had helped me to refine.

"Would you rather watch this by yourself?" He asked.

I thought about it for a moment and realised that not only did I not mind if Broots saw whatever was on the disk but also that I actually wanted him to see it with me. This surprised and confused me since I didn't know what, if any, secrets the DSA contained but I did know that I wanted to share them with Broots. For some reason, I wanted to have no secrets from him. And having him with me would bring me comfort if it turned out to be distressing.

"I'd like you to stay." I said simply.

He smiled and pulled another chair across to sit beside me. Without saying anything more he took my hand and squeezed it comfortingly as he activated the DSA.

I contemplated the feel of his hand holding mine and I remembered the kiss we had shared a few days ago. Neither of us had spoken of it and I had returned to my own tiny apartment after my weekend in the Broots household. I found that I had missed his warmth and his presence at night.

The screen lit up with the information from the DSA and I turned my attention to what I was about to see.

_Jarod, aged in his late teens or early twenties, enters Sydney's office. To Jarod's obvious dismay he finds Sydney sitting at his desk with his head resting in his shaking hands. Sydney's shirt has blood on it._

_"Sydney!" cries Jarod. "What's wrong? Are you alright?"_

_Sydney quickly composes himself - or tries to - as soon as he realises that his young charge is in the room. _

_"I'm fine, Jarod." He says but obviously is still very upset._

_"But, Sydney, there's blood on you! What happened?" Jarod's voice shakes with concern and worry._

_"A young girl was attacked. Dr Raines and I only just managed to save her life." His professional manner slips and he moans. "Oh god, Jarod, it was horrible. She had been sexually assaulted as well as physically. She lost so much blood."_

_Jarod's face pales. "Who could do such a terrible thing?"_

_"I don't know, Jarod, but Mr Parker swore to me that he would find out who was responsible for this atrocity and bring them to justice."_

_"I want to do something to help, Sydney, maybe I could perform a sim to find out who did this." Jarod's voice is shaking in outrage. "They must be punished, Sydney!"_

_Sydney watches Jarod as he struggles against the rage of emotions welling up inside him._

_"I want to do something to help her." The young man continues. "I want to see her - to talk to her. I have to help her."_

_Sydney's face reflects a carefully hidden pride but he says "The girl isn't up to seeing anyone right now and as soon as she is well enough to leave the infirmary, Mr Parker has arranged for her to be released from The Centre. However, your concern is very admirable, Jarod."_

_"You'll help her get through this, won't you Sydney? You can counsel her."_

_"There isn't that much time before she leaves, Jarod. These things take a lot of time."_

_"Promise me, you'll help her!" Jarod demands._

_"I'll do whatever I can, Jarod."_

_"You have to help her." The young man's face is filled with anguish and sorrow._

The DSA recording ended and I sat there feeling numb for a while. Then it hit me - Jarod cared about me. He didn't even know me but he had cared about what had been done to me and he had wanted to make sure I would be okay. This is what I had been seeking when I had taken Jarod's notebooks into my hands that last night at Broots' house, after that terrible nightmare. Just some small piece of evidence that would indicate that Jarod would care about me.

I dissolved into tears, not of sorrow but of relief. Soon Broots' arms were around me, and he was comforting me with soothing words.

Later I also contemplated the visions generated by Jarod's notebooks. The set of visions from my first encounter were all relating to my desire at that point to know what Jarod was like, what his life was like. The visions seemed to give me the answers to what I needed to know. How did this correlate with my second encounter, however? After the terrible dream, all I had wanted was to know whether, if he knew me, would Jarod care about me? Yet the visions from the notebooks at that point had also been about Jarod's desire for family, and about babies, and I remembered that the dream was also about the baby The Centre had planned for us. Why? The child had never existed.

However, this child who had never existed - except in the scheming minds of Centre minions - had certainly been on my mind a lot since I had confided in Sydney about those nefarious plans. The fact that it had figured so dramatically in my recent nightmares as well as the notebook visions should mean something. But what? I should probably talk to Sydney about it I decided. After all, psychiatrists loved interpreting dreams - why not visions as well?

As soon as Sydney returned to the office I spoke to him about it. However, he did not have much of an answer for me. He simply thought for a moment and mused. "With a little bit of practice I'm sure you could refine your skills and be able to extract the exact information you required from a source as you do from Jarod's notebooks."

He was only thinking of our work and possible future projects. Which was fine except that I needed answers.

"But what about the dream, Sydney? And why did my latest notebook visions turn in a similar direction?"  
"You mean that both involved Jarod and a baby. Well, I agree that there has to be some reason. Perhaps on a subconscious level you really wanted that child."

"I guess in a way I did but that was only a futile - and foolish - fantasy. One that required The Centre to be non-existent."

"Perhaps the dream and your visions are simply a way of discovering if Jarod would have shared your fantasy - if you and he had met and escaped years ago - if things had been different. In a way this is similar to you needing to know whether he would have cared about what happened to you all those years ago."

I nodded. "You are probably right, Sydney. That must be it. I guess I've buried a lot of Centre-related issues during my time on the 'outside'."

"And it's only natural that they would surface now you're back." He hesitated a moment before continuing. "Have you given any more thought to talking about these things in depth? In a professional sense?"

"I like things fine the way they are now, Sydney. Talking to you as a friend, getting your opinion when I need it is great but I really don't think having formal sessions with you is necessary. Thanks anyway."

As I walked away, he wanted to say more but didn't. Concern emanated from him in waves quite strongly but I dismissed it. After all, I didn't need therapy, did I?

However, later that afternoon, I discovered that his concern was even deeper than I had realised. I was walking back to the office after taking some information to Miss Parker who was in a meeting in the Tower when I saw two figures huddled in one of The Centre's many dark corners where many a private conversation was held. Conversations often involving secrets, lies, and death.

As I approached them I realised that it was Sydney and Broots. They were talking about me. I had no need to secrete myself behind a column to eavesdrop - instead I took a different way back to the office and monitored them from there by way of my powers.

"I'm concerned about Melinda." Sydney was saying.

"In what way?" asked Broots, sounding defensive.

"She won't accept any counselling from me. I would recommend another psychologist, however, given the situation who else can she talk to but me?"

"She can talk to me."

"That's all very well, Broots - and it is a start - but she really does need professional help to deal with everything."

"She seems pretty together to me." replied Broots loyally. "Especially after everything she's gone through."

"It seems that way, yes. However, she has buried a lot of her pain very deeply and when that bubbles to the surface, for example after the incident in the carpark, things could get rather... dangerous."

"What do you mean?"

"If I hadn't been able to give her that sedative, I believe it to be very likely that she would not have survived."

"Oh my god." whispered Broots in horror.

"Now you see why I'm concerned."

"What do you want me to do?" Broots asked.

"All I ask, Broots, is that you try to help me persuade her to talk to me - to get the help she needs."

"I'll try, Sydney - but I really don't think she'll go for it."

"I know it will be difficult but, since we care about her, what choice do we have but to try?"

I pulled my awareness away from their conversation. Were things really that serious? I felt fine - well, as fine as one could be within the darkness of The Centre. Certainly I felt some stress, some pressure, but who didn't? Even the outside world was not free from these things.

Sure, I had lost control that day but the incident in the carpark that had triggered my reaction had been extreme and then it was compounded by Sydney's recognition of me as a child of The Centre. It's not like events would conspire again in such a way to unhinge me. However, this was The Centre which seemed to exist in its own weird little world - who knew what bizarre happenings could occur here from day to day? Was I really as prepared as I had thought to cope with anything thrown my way?

And what if there was a next time? And what if this time I did not only lose control of my emotions, of myself, but also my powers? And what if I hurt someone I cared about?

I shook off these dark thoughts as someone entered the room. It was Broots and he approached me apprehensively trying to figure out what to say.

"Hey." That was all he could come up with as an opener.

"Hey." I replied.

"How's everything going?"

"Not bad. Got all Miss Parker's work done so I'm going to visit Angelo soon."

"You know," he said suddenly, awkwardly because it was so deliberately offhand, "I sometimes have sessions with Sydney, to talk things over, work stuff out. He's very good - and the best thing is that no matter how weird the stuff is that I tell him, he never treats me strangely once we get back to work, you know?"

"What are you trying to say, Broots?" I asked quietly.

He swallowed nervously and then plowed on. "I'm just saying that maybe talking with Sydney would help you too. Especially with your nightmares and all. I mean, it couldn't hurt, could it?"

"Actually it could, Broots, it could hurt a lot." I sighed and held up a hand to cut him off as he started to speak again - to continue trying to convince me. "However, I suppose if you think I should give it a go, then I will."

I could justify it all I wanted with 'if it means that much to them' but deep down I knew that it was about time I confronted a lot of things instead of ignoring them. Besides, Sydney owed me a few counselling sessions and he knew it.

Even so, I wasn't entirely convinced of the necessity of all this bother, so when I went to visit Angelo, I asked him to judge my state of mind and whether it was so important for me to see Sydney professionally.

Angelo looked thoughtful for a moment as he took my hands in his. I could feel his gentle probing on my consciousness. It would have been an unpleasant feeling if it hadn't been Angelo doing it. Finally he spoke in his strange child-like voice.

"Sydney can help Melinda."

I sensed for a moment that he was going to call me Millie but remembered that - although our circumstances were different - I was no longer Millie just as he was no longer Timmy.

"I know a bit of therapy could probably do something to help me but is it as necessary as he seems to think?" I asked Angelo.

He was unable to form his feelings into words. As I watched Angelo struggle to communicate I immediately cursed Raines. For all that he had once saved my life he had still destroyed Angelo's. Instead, Angelo communicated with me through impressions he sent to my mind. I got the general gist.

Basically, Angelo was of the opinion that Sydney felt that he needed to make up for what he had not done for me in the past. However, the thing that hit me like a blow to the stomach was Angelo's impression of my psyche - something that I obviously could not accurately read for myself. Physical and emotional tied together and surrounded by the bright glow of my powers - that much was normal. What I had never seen before were the cracks and fissures of darkness that crept over and through like ugly black spiderwebs. That and the pressure mounting on all sides.

I sat in silence - in shock. I may as well be a walking timebomb. Who knows what would happen to me if it went off? Would I become like Angelo? Or a comatose vegetable? Or would it just kill me?

Angelo broke through my shock by speaking again more firmly. "Melinda hurt. Sydney can help."

I nodded. "You're right, Angelo. I promise I'll go talk to him right now." I hugged Angelo and he smiled which was something he did rarely.

When I returned to the office, Miss Parker and Sydney were already there. They were talking with Broots about the usual routine Jarod stuff. They all looked up and knew immediately from my face that there was something serious going on.

No-one said anything as I just walked into Sydney's office. After a moment he silently joined me shutting the door behind him. We both sat down at his desk. The ball was in my court because there was no way he was going to risk this by saying anything.

I told him quickly about what Angelo had shown me.

"Can you show me?" asked Sydney.

I quickly formed the impression in my mind - horrible cracks and all - and projected it to him. He closed his eyes to better study the mental image.

Without opening his eyes he said. "Now show me what it should look like."

I altered the image until there were no cracks showing. The glow brightened as I did this and I wished fervently that I could fix it as easily on the real thing.

"Fascinating." He never seemed to tire of this word. His intellectual mind was intrigued by everything new that I showed him I could do but he shrugged this off and concentrated on what the image meant. His concern was apparent in his eyes.

"I'm scared, Sydney."

"Everything is going to be alright. It'll take time but together you and I will fix this."

"I wish I could be as confident as you about that."

He was silent for a moment. "You know, it wouldn't surprise me if all my patients had similar damage to their psyches."

"Really? As severe as mine seems to be?"

"More so in some cases I'd think. Especially those with extreme psychological disorders." He smiled at me. "Its not as if you're displaying signs of anything like that."

"Thank god." I laughed. That made me feel a little better - more normal somehow. I guess I had been worried that the darkness threatening to overtake my psyche was more severe because of my powers of which in some ways I knew so little. Now it seemed more like I was just like anyone else who had lived through traumatic circumstances - the difference was I would know when I had healed a little. And healing was something I couldn't put off any longer.

Sydney, however, was contemplating all the uses this new skill of mine had. He was thinking about how I could show him what a schizophrenic's psyche looked like and things like that.

"We'll discuss that later, Sydney, I promise."

He jumped slightly. He still wasn't quite used to me answering unspoken thoughts. "Of course. Why don't we start by talking about your time in The Centre as a child. The things you left out before."

I took a deep breath. I was worried that reliving these events would trigger off the timebomb that I felt I was carrying around in my head. I steeled myself and was relieved as a cold calmness enveloped me. In this almost detached state I would get through this but what of Sydney? He had been at The Centre for a very long time, had seen and heard about a lot of horrible things in his time - but I wasn't so sure he could handle everything I had to share with him.

Coldly, I thought - _He owes me_ - and proceeded to tell him everything he wanted to know.


End file.
